Life can be Lived Alone
by Hot4Gerry
Summary: Two men one heartbroken boy.Both love him but only one shares the same blood.They must find a way to father Gustave and lay all past grievances aside.Meg is shattered seemingly beyond repair and deserted by her mother.Guilt will keep Erik at her side. R
1. Chapter 1

**Life can be Lived Alone (Sequel to LND)**

**Chapter One**

**Rebuilding**

Today we will lay my love to rest for eternity. My guilt for my part in her death haunts me now and likely I shall have that burden for the rest of my life. If not for my selfish wish to prove once and for all she did love her Angel of Music she would have gone on living out her natural life. She and Raoul may not have lived blissfully but at least she would have lived. My arrogance and selfish wants brought my lovely Christine to her demise.

Even with others around I feel alone. As hard as I try I cannot keep my grief at bay for long. Once again I must prepare myself for living alone. If Gustave will not accept me I cannot in good conscience force him to stay with me or even allow me to gain a permanent place in his life. Madame and Meg I feel responsible for but I do not feel as if I can have them in my life as they were. At the moment things must continue between us for the sake of everyone's comfort. Meg…it hurts to even think her name although I have walked in her shoes before so I do feel some empathy for her mental incapacity. If not for her unreasonable jealousy that lead to insanity and desperation Christine would be alive and possibly be at my side.

Releasing Christine's body to Raoul had been an act of courtesy and respect for his family. The authorities were happy to give every consideration to such an important man of society and I suspect more out of respect for Christine and her now motherless child. Normally an investigation would have to have been made but we, Raoul, Madame Giry and I, had talked and agreed that Christine's death should be ruled an accident. Meg is in no fit state to be judged for taking Christine's life. As for myself I feel enough harm has been done. I want no more deaths on my conscience. Meg will reside in an apartment with her mother while her mind heals. Should she need a doctor's services I will provide the funds so the best in the land may attend her. I cannot feel animosity against Meg. What I feel is great sadness for everyone concerned.

Raoul bears no real fault in this although I would like to lift much of my sins from my own shoulders and place them onto his. Knowing of his weakness for alcohol I goaded him to drink more and then still more. Once I had him intoxicated beyond the point of clear thought I found his anger just below the surface. Using his anger against him had been all too easy. Where I led he followed like a lamb to slaughter.

Even poor misguided Meg is less guilty than I. Why could I not show her even a little kindness or appreciation for her devotion but then I did not favor her mother Madame Giry with praise for all her service during the last two and a half decades either. Why would a self absorbed man such as I bother with a lowly performer in one of my side shows? Poor misguided Meg. The parallel between her obsession and my own so many years ago is not lost on me.

Gustave is the only truly innocent party in all of this. Even Christine must take her share of the blame. All along she must have known the mysterious man inviting her to perform at the fabulous Phantasm Theatre sounded suspect. Did she not confess that very thing to me upon our first meeting in her rooms shortly after her arrival? Why did she not refuse such an obvious ploy to bring her under my spell once more? Sadly her motive I believe was much the same as mine when I first plotted to bring her here. Both of us needed one last chance to see if our love had been sustained and something could come of it.

It is too soon for me to come to grips with all that has taken place but for my son, our son, I must be strong and not lose my head. Cursing and shouting or rampaging around will do no one any good and will only frighten poor Gustave. Years ago that method nearly cost me everything dear to me. I will not sink into that darkness again.

Gustave does not know me yet as a son should know his father but he will. He has lost his mother and I will not take from him the only father he has known even though Raoul honored our wager or at least had intended to. My letter to him beseeching him to stay for a while and ease Gustave into my life, the man that his mother claimed with her dying breath was his one true father, bore fruit and he will now stay to comfort his son for Gustave is surely still that. I may have given my seed to Christine but Raoul shared the last ten years of his life with Christine and Gustave. I now know why Raoul distanced himself from Gustave and used drink to cloud his mind. Those in pain use different methods to relieve it if only for a short time.

Raoul let his bitterness and suspicions drive a wedge between him and his family. How can I blame him? He had good reason to be jealous and suspicious. Did I not take the first opportunity afforded me to reenter Christine's life and cause havoc by doing so? At the time I didn't care. I thought myself to be in the right for I carried Christine's declaration of love to me all these years in my heart and soul. Only in the later year have I gained the confidence to reveal myself to her, to let her know I am not dead as all the papers proclaimed.

I have looked in on Gustave no less than ten times over the last few hours. Partially it is to assure myself he is truly here and I had not had a horrid nightmare and none of what I thought happened had occurred. My mind has off and on wrestled with whether I would rather have Christine be alive and happy with Raoul or dead and my unknown son finally come to know me just as I will come to know him.

I can see it now, the cruelty of her declaration. Raoul may have become less than his honorable self over the last few years but I know he loves Gustave with a father's love. Jealousy kept him from being the sort of father he would like to have been. Over the years, or perhaps even on the night of their wedding Raoul must have realized Christine had been unfaithful to him at least once. Even I, who had never lain with a woman, knew Christine to be chaste. Putting myself in that situation I believe I might have done Christine some irreparable harm. Many times my mind let me see my beloved in the arms of her loving husband and it was hard to keep from destroying all in my path on those nights when my dreams turned into nightmares. What might I have done if we were wed only to find another man had been with her and fathered the son who should have been mine? I suspect Raoul put Christine on a pedestal as I did and forgave her that one disloyal act although I believe it took his manhood from him. Surely it took his honor to know what had transpired between Christine and me. Both she and I dishonored the descent young man Raoul had been. We set in motion events that would bring nothing but heartache and misery.

What must it have been like for Raoul to have his suspicions yet unable to give voice to them? Every time he looked at Gustave he must have searched for features not his own or Christine's. When the boy began to compose and play music beyond what his mother could have taught him another dagger must have been thrust into Raoul's already injured heart.

It is a testament to how much I have changed over the years that I can see others pain and feel sympathy for them. When in Paris only my own hurts concerned me. Even Christine at times bore the brunt of my anger toward the world. I would never have harmed her intentionally but if someone or something displeased me our lesson for that day would be one where I shouted and belittled her until I brought her to tears.

It is only now when it is too late I see that my own mistrust of the world kept me buried beneath the opera house. If I had not been so cowardly ten years ago I might have found a place in the world just as I did after that ill-fated night, the night of Don Juan Triumphant.

Poor Gustave is sleeping and I hope he remains so for a little longer. I have no words to give him that might ease his grief for my own is nearly debilitating. We will not speak of Christine just yet. The wound is too fresh. Raoul came yesterday looking much as he used to when he was younger, eyes clear, hands steady and mind sharp of mind. Addiction to mind altering substances is not an easy habit to rid oneself of after years of reliance on it to make it through each day. Raoul has many difficult days ahead of him but Gustave will give him incentive to break the chains of his dependence on drink.

I do regret being the one to tell Raoul he did not father Gustave. It was hurtful and thoughtless of me. It was not my place to do so. Had I not wanted to grind the fact of my legitimate claim to Gustave in Raoul's face I wouldn't have told him of Christine's betrayal or made that ridiculous bet with him. I wanted to unman him even more than he already was and at the same time boost my own manhood. I am not proud of my boorish behavior. Neither of us acted as gentlemen should. Christine should have been the one to make the decision whether or not she stayed or left with Raoul. How did we come to think that the final decision was ours to make and do so with a bet? All along it had been for Christine to say who she would love and who she would walk beside for the remainder of her days. Now, neither one of us shall ever have that pleasure again. Her angelic voice will no longer fill the auditorium of any theatre . I may hear her when sleep overtakes me or believe I hear a ghostly melody as I have these past ten years living without her. Imagination that is the only way in which I may bask in the glory of the talent I created.

Worries fill my waking hours. What is to become of us all? How will we make this work? Raoul must be a part of Gustave's life as I shall be. I cannot in good conscience abandon Madame and her daughter Meg although that is exactly what I did by brining Christine here. Through my careless actions I gave Meg false hope. How was I to know her ever increasingly bold displays on stage were to gain my attention?

Come what may we must make this work. An unconventional family we may be but a family is what we are. If everyone had not disbanded they would be welcome to stay and become a part of this unorthodox alliance. Fleck ran to ground as did her father. Whether or not they will return time will tell.

**A/N: Please, please, please review. I am a little nervous about this one.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

**Weep no More**

Gustave looks so lost and forlorn. I am not accustomed to giving or receiving comfort so I have no idea how to proceed. I feel it best to take my cue from him. He will know I am here if he needs me without forcing myself on him. We share the bond of blood and genius but little else. He has asked if he may see his Papa. It cuts like a knife to hear him request such a thing knowing it is Raoul he is wanting and not me.

I assured him that Raoul would be at the service today. I couldn't bear to refer to Christine's funeral as anything other than a service. Logically I know Gustave knows what is to take place as do I but it seems wrong to imagine such a lovely woman being enclosed in a box then dirt shoveled over her. Christine was far too young for her life to have ended.

My carriage will be picking us up precisely on the hour of twelve. We are all gathering at the small church belonging to the cemetery. Christine had not been here long enough to have an affiliation with any of the surrounding churches. In truth Raoul and I neither one had the heart to give too much attention to plans for laying our loved one in the ground. Most of the arrangements were offered by the helpful mortician who prepared Christine for this sad day. We agreed on tasteful yet not morbid decorations for the chapel. Who would have thought Raoul and I could agree on anything. I believe Christine's passing has sobered Raoul and doused the fuse on any remaining anger I had harbored over the years.

Going into the study where Gustave is lying on the floor drawing with a pencil for a moment I stand and simply look at him giving us both a few last moments of peace before reality must be faced. Gustave is too young to have so much turmoil in his life. I fear he may take after me more than I would like and take his anger and grief out on those around him. That is what I did for many years.

"Gustave," I say quietly.

"Yes Monsieur Er…Pa…" he stumbles to a halt not knowing how to address me. I can see by the sadness and confusion on his face he is unsure how to address me. Raoul is still his father in his eyes.

Kneeling down, I run hand over his soft hair in a caressing gesture, which he does not reject. The quivering of his lower lip is a telltale sign that his outward calm is for my benefit. I wish I had the right to take him in my arms and hold him like any normal father would do in a situation such as this. For now Raoul will be the one to hold him while I can only give comfort in the words I speak.

"Raoul will always be your Papa Gustave but perhaps someday you might care to call me Papa Erik. For now you may call me Erik." He may not call me Papa but to have him address me formally as Monsieur causes an ache very much like the one Christine's declarations to Raoul on the rooftop of the opera house had done.

More than anything I want him to verbally acknowledge who I am in relation to him. I must be satisfied that we both know I am his rightful father even if I had been denied ten years of his life. Someday when he is ready to hear of it, I will tell him all about my life and how I came to know his mother. For now simple truths will be told. There will be time for more detailed explanations later. Not wanting to keep Raoul and Gustave apart does not mean I will relinquish all rights to him. I must play some role in his future. His musical talents must be channeled so he can share his gift with the world as I was not able to do. Mediocer compositions performed upon the stage of my Coney Island theatre I do not consider anything more than tripe to feed the untutored ears of the masses attending those performances I felt degraded me but allowed me to rise to a position of power, power enough to lure Christine back to me. Gustave has shown a natural talent for the piano but hasn't asked once to play. As for me I find solace in music, perhaps too much in fact. Too much fantasy and not enough reality.

"Erik, will Papa be there? He won't be…he isn't sick again is he?" I know he is referring to Raoul's problem with alcohol. I can't be certain Raoul can continue to remain sober for ever but for now I do feel the love he feels for Gustave will win out over his cravings at least for a while, enough to let Gustave feel secure in the immediate future.

"You saw him yesterday correct?" I ask in a reasonable tone.

"Yes," he answers carefully.

"Was he not like your Papa from your younger days before…" this time it is I who pause as I cannot plainly label his father a drunkard. What boy wants to hear that, especially from someone who is essentially a stranger to him?

"You are Erik and he is my Papa. Papa said I may go back to his hotel with him," he said with real eagerness. Raoul has not lost his son's love just yet. If Raoul can remain sober, all past hurts will be healed between the two. For my part I will do all I can to see that this is achieved. Raoul is an honorable man and will keep his word not to come between Gustave and me. In light of his magnanimous gesture I gave him my word I would do nothing to belittle him in his son's eyes nor steal him away even though briefly the thought had crossed my mind. At the age of 45 running does not have the same appeal it did in my younger days when I had nothing to lose. I am a man of property now, I have a son and people counting on me for employment. Some decision will have to be made as to whether I keep my holdings on the boardwalk or not. The shine has worn off as now there is no purpose to owning the theatre or any of the display tents lining the boardwalk and located throughout Coney Island's main entertainment area.

Of course I longed for freedom to live above ground as well as making an honest living. I achieved both of those objectives but my main goal had been to bring Christine back to me. I don't think I can bear to return as I am sure memories will haunt me of that last fateful night. There will be time in the near future to make those sorts of decisions. I have Gustave to focus on right now. Everything else is secondary.

Realizing Gustave is waiting for me to speak I push back all thoughts except for him and reply, "Yes, Gustave he is still your father even if I…well we'll work on just what our relationship will be later. For now just know you have two people who love you and will do anything to make your life safe and serene."

"I…I do want to know you. Mama…" he pauses and gulps down his tears then continues, "Mama said she knew you when she was a child just a little younger than me. She…she said it was you who gave her a voice. What she said…that…that night…about…about your being my one true father…is…is it true? Is that why Papa let you take me? Am I to live with you now and not see…not see Papa once he returns to France?" he chokes up at the end almost bringing me to tears as well. He looks like such a lost soul right now.

Quickly I reassure him, "Of course I will not take you from the only father you have known, your Papa. If I had known…well let's not delve into that now. What I would like to happen is for the two of us to get to know one another better. You liked seeing all my gadgets and oddities. Given time I can show you more. I can even teach you about music if you would like. Raoul, your Papa, and I have agreed that after today you will go to live with him and come to visit me whenever you like. I want to assure you that whatever anger there was between your father and I is now and forever buried. We have too much to look forward to. Why waste precious time in anger? Will…will that suit you?" I lean forward as if that will bring a positive answer more quickly.

He considers what I have said a moment before he looks up at me to reply, "I think Mama would like that. I think I should like it too as long as Papa says it is alright. I would like to see more of your creations. Music has been something that comes to me whether I have an instrument or not. So…yes I would like that, I would like that very much."

Twice in a short span of time he has said he wanted to spend more time with me. How proud he makes me feel. Only for a short time at our initial meeting did he show fear or maybe it had been a natural distrust of a stranger. Whatever it had been it did not remain for long. Wonders he had never seen peaked his curiosity.

I want to bring him into my arms but perhaps it too soon for such things. Now that I know he wants to continue our acquaintance there will be time to build a proper relationship. For the next few weeks I will store every moment we spend together just in case…Even as I try to stave off doubts I can't help the doubts clouding my special moment with Gustave. Life has not been easy for me and I do not take good fortune for granted. After what has happened I can see I took advantage of both Madame and Meg. I took their loyalty for granted as if it was mine by right. What did I ever do to earn one second of their loyalty? Nothing, I did nothing. Well that will change. However Madame betrayed my trust I feel honor bound to offer her my aid. Meg. Poor misguided Meg. It is hard to know just how to help her. I was the object of her insanity so perhaps I am not the best person to be her guide back. My own battle with my delusions did not come easily nor do I have some secret as to how I should proceed. It is by the grace of God that I came to America and thus allowed myself to reclaim my humanity. As I told Christine once, I was a monster a hideous gargoyle. Back then that is how I saw myself. It is what I had been led to believe by those who kept me captive for so many years while treating me as if I were an animal. How could anyone, let alone a small child, retain any sense of worth or belonging in the world?

Hearing a hiccup from Gustave I reach out my hand to glide it over his head then come to rest on is shoulder as I say, "Everything will be alright. I give you my word on the love I have for your mother that I will never intentionally do anything to harm you. It is time now to leave."

Standing up I reach down my hand in a gesture so reminiscent of my days with my little angel I must tighten the control on my emotions. Gustave does not hesitate to place his hand trustingly into mine. His hand is so small in contrast to mine just as his mother's had been. These waves of nostalgia I hope pass soon for I don't know how long I can keep my inevitable breakdown at bay.

By mutual agreement once we leave the hotel and take our seats in the carriage we travel in silence. I am glad I decided to stay in a motel for a few days. As Raoul had left that night intending to return to Paris I had no choice but to take Gustave with me. Since neither of us would have wanted to be in a place filled with reminders of Christine the only other option open to me had been to take a suite in a hotel.

As we approach the chapel I see Raoul standing alone on the steps. He looks so forlorn with his hunched shoulders coupled with an air of defeat about him. In his place I would have been in a similar position. The only thing keeping me going is Gustave's presence. Who knows what will happen in the hours he is away from me. I do tend to get maudlin if left alone without anything to occupy my mind.

Gustave jumps out the door almost before the coach has stopped. For all he felt abandoned by Raoul and neglected he still loves Raoul. Children and dogs are very loyal. Kick a dog and he'll crawl back whining to be kicked again. Children may be slapped around by a parent yet defend them should anyone disparage their parent.

Giving them time to greet one another without my interference I stand back for a bit. When Raoul raises his head he mouths a silent "thank you". A simple nod of my head is the only acknowledgment I give to him. We may be on better terms but it will still take time before we are comfortable speaking about emotions toward one another.

Believing they have had enough time to reassure one another that all is as well as can be expected I take the stairs so that we are all on the small concrete porch of the chapel. I wish to speak to Raoul in private so I say to Gustave, "Gustave why not go in and take a seat at the back and wait for us. If it…if you find you do not wish to stay inside you may come back outside. Do you think you will be alright?"

I am worried about him seeing Christine in her coffin with no one to soothe his sadness or worries for the future.

Wanting to impress both his father and me Gustave pulls his shoulders back to say, "Of course I will be fine. I am not a baby. I am ten and shall turn eleven next month."

"Well if you are sure. Your father and I won't be but a few minutes if Raoul agrees of course," I say as I turn to Raoul enquiringly.

"Yes I do believe I should like to have a word with you as well. Later we must carry on a longer conversation but for now there are a few pressing details we need to settle," he says in a reasonable tone. All his graces and airs are returning as he becomes more sober. No one looking at him now would believe he had wagered his wife on a bet, one that if he lost he agreed to leave her in the hands of another man. In the cold light of day I can see that neither of us fares very well in this scenario.

After Gustave departed we stood in silence. Neither one of us can find the words to begin our conversation. At the best of times I am not an articulate speaker. Through music and song I am able to express emotions from one end of the spectrum to the other. Exchanging words with others is hard for me unless I am giving orders to be carried out. Those do not require any interaction. Conversations with others was not part of my life growing up. Most of my encounters with Christine had been of a musical nature.

"Erik I do hope we can come to a peaceful solution to all of this. I know we spoke a little upon these matters but there is so much that needs to be addressed. In light of recent revelations I know I shall have to allow you and Gustave to form some sort of relationship. All I ask is that you leave him with me, just to start with," he speaks quickly seeing that I am about to protest.

"You may see him as often as you wish. I may not have been the father Gustave deserved but I am the only father he knows. He will need time to adjust especially with…with his mother's death," his voice is breaking with the strain of keeping from giving in to the tears I can see filling his eyes.

Ten years is a long time to hold a grudge. Letting go of my anger toward Raoul had been a freeing experience. Who knows if after my grief has abated if I will still feel so sympathetic toward him. We are two men sharing the same pain and we should be able to comfort one another yet here we are and I can give him no outward show of understanding or console him as a normal person would. Our past I suppose cannot be dismissed quite so easily just because we share a mutual tragedy.

Even with Gustave I had to spend an entire night sifting through all my emotions before settling on celebrating and embracing the connection between us. So many years my life has been about me and my pain that it took many hours sitting beside his bedside to see that the child lying in that bed would wake feeling lost, abandoned and as if his world had been torn apart.

Learning I am a parent did not magically give me the skills and incite to deal with a child in the throws of grief but it did give me the incentive to try to understand how he might see things. Not having a normal childhood myself I am not the best person to delve into the thought processes of a child. I had to wade through the muck and mire we adults had placed him in to come to see clearly how to approach Gustave. Trust from him will have to be earned. I believe his docile acceptance the night he lost his mother came about because the poor fellow was gripped by shock. Gradually over the last two days he has begun to return to being the boy he was before. Soon I suspect he may show his anger at the loss of his mother in a more demonstrative fashion. Tantrums and displays of anger will not be beyond the realm of possibility. Remembering my own penchant for fiery displays of temper in all likelihood my son may have inherited my negative traits as well as the positive.

God help us all if in later years he develops irrational behavior as I did. He will have love from Raoul and from me which will give him some security. Raoul will be the much better guideline to us as to proper behavior as I lived by the rules what is yours is mine if I want or need it and do as I say or else. Back then I tended to be rather tyrannical. If honest with myself I am still of the same mind frame but I am willing to work on changes within myself.

It is rather hard for me to feel close to anyone. Even Christine took many months before I took notice of anything more than her voice. Day by day our connection grew. I suspect there may be a physical reason for my disassociation with humanity as well as a mental distancing. I have made it a point to gather every book on the subject of the human mind as well as behavior due to trauma or damage in the brain itself. Knowing all of this it makes it easier to agree with Raoul as to how we shall approach our current dilemma.

"I agree we must take things slowly and not let ourselves become mired down with past grievances. " It is to be hoped he has the good grace not to point out that almost all that happened during my years at the opera house were things that transpired due to my demands or crazed plots and plans. When he said nothing on the subject I breathed more easily. It would not do for us to engage in fisticuffs on such a dismal day. I am forever grateful I had long ago given up carrying around a sword or knives hidden about my person. At times I deem it necessary to still have my Punjab lasso but only on those nights I walk about into the wee hours of the morning trying to run from my nightmares.

Having no more to say we awkwardly stand facing each other not knowing what to do now. If we had been men of normal acquaintance we would have shaken hands. If we had a normal relationship none of the preceding conversation would likely have been necessary.

We enter the chapel together so we may rejoin Gustave, the son we will now share. God keep us from ruining this precious child. God keep me from ruining this precious child for I know myself all too well. After the first flush of sharing in Christine's loss begins to fade I will return to my usual arrogant self-serving personality. There are times when I can conquer my less pleasant traits but not always. Not being able to have much of anything in my early life I held on tight to what I did have wanting to share none of it with anyone. I do think my self absorption in my bid to win Christine caused me to ignore the warning signs Meg so clearly displayed that she was losing her grip on reality. Madame should have had the first clue when Meg displayed signs of adoration for me. Loving me has not been a pleasant experience for anyone thus far in my life. With Gustave I pray that will change. Time will tell.

**A/N: Only one review for chapter one. Moved this back to plays/musicals hoping to get more readers. Please let me know if this is plausible. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

**The Way Back**

Gustave sat just inside the chapel on the back pew with his head bowed and his hands folded in his lap. I suspect he only just seconds before took his seat. I do believe he has inherited my penchant for listening in on private conversations. This issue will need to be addressed along with several others in the days to come. For now he is a lost little boy submerged in the merky depths grownups have tossed him into without any warning or preparation although how can one prepare for such circumstances as have befallen us?

Gasping it seems for air Gustave looks first at Raoul then at me gauging to see if either of us suspects him of wrongdoing. Raoul looks toward me as if to ask what we should do. It is to his credit that he intends to include me as if it had been up to me I may have taken a different stand on things. At first yes, I would have let Gustave and Raoul be together but after that second day there would probably not been any more meetings between father and son. I know and recognize my selfishness.

Sitting in the front pew together it feels as if a thousand pairs of eyes are boring holes into the back of my head. All of those people crowding the chapel should not be here. They are strangers to us and did not know Christine personally. Just because she gave herself to those who came to see her performance did not give them any rights over her especially during this time of personal tragedy. We who knew and loved her should be allowed to say good-bye in private.

I imagine Raoul feels the same. His glances over his shoulder are accompanied by under his breath curses. If not for Gustave I would have those gawking sensation seekers out in a flash. They may not like my methods so should praise God I am not in charge and wish to seem calm for my son's sake. The service which should hold a profound place in my heart curiously passed in a blur leaving me no real memory of what anyone said or if indeed anyone came forward to speak. Raoul declined. I suspect if he tried to say anything about Christine he would have broken down. I know I would. As it is I can barely keep myself upright. I am mostly going through the motions.

We walked out of the chapel in a silent parade. Even the uninvited have enough respect for the occasion to be silent. The black funeral carriage leads us to Christine's final resting place. Raoul asks if he may be one of those to carry Christine's coffin from the wagon to the graveside. He doesn't ask me in words but does turn to me and bows his head almost imperceptibly. Even with my heart breaking I feel honored to be one of those to bring Christine to her final resting place. It is an acknowledgment that I was an important part of her life; one Raoul could have denied me. It says much about his character that he is able to afford me this generous concession. Again my own character would have defeated any good intentions I would have. Would that I could I would have arranged a private ceremony where it would be only Christine and I. Gustave I may have given special concession to as it is his mother that is to be buried. It is good that I am only another mourner instead of the main principal in this life's tragedy. Raoul has a right to mourn Christine more than I as much as that disturbs me. They were husband and wife while she and I...I am not certain how one would describe our relationship unless it is to call us star-crossed lovers.

Gustave must have taken his cue from Raoul as his tears have quieted into sniffles with an occasional hiccup. I would tell him to hell with showing manly pride when his heart must feel as if it has been ripped to shreds much as mine has and I imagine Raoul's has as well. There have been times in my life I thought all my tears had been cried out in my younger days but during my bid for Christine's affections all those years ago I shed more tears than I care to remember. Only occasionally over the last ten years have my emotions gotten the better of me and always it has been when longing for Christine could not be kept from surfacing.

Raoul reaches down and plucks a fistful of dirt to toss on the coffin now residing in the ground. Gustave follows suit. I on the other hand could not send my love into eternity without a rose to carry with her into heaven. A rose had been the symbol I used to show at first my approval and affection then later my love for Christine. This shall be the last red rose I shall likely ever buy whether for myself or anyone else. It will forever remain something only shared with Christine.

None of us wished to stay as they shoveled dirt into the ground. It was hard enough to watch as her coffin lowered into the cold damp earth. For a moment I wished to demand they bring her back as Christine hated the dark. In her childhood she feared whatever she imagined lurked in that darkness. Her fear is one reason I had made myself known to her in the chapel of the opera house. Later I continued as I heard a musical quality in her voice I wanted to cultivate.

With awkward pats on his back I bid Gustave farewell letting him know I would be coming to see him soon. I wait to see if he will embrace me, touch me, offer something that I may carry with me while he is gone from my sight. He won't look up at me so I cannot see what expression is on his face. I do hope it is not relief to be rid of me. Raoul and I merely nodded our heads in the others general direction. I suppose both of us had about enough of the others company.

I have other business I must attend to. This next stop I would rather avoid but could not do so. I haven't heard from Madame since we all got together to discuss what we should tell the authorities. It is to be hoped Meg is of a sound mind once again or at least on the mend. What I shall do with her if not will depend on Madame I suppose. Perhaps a house in the country for the two of them would be best. Getting away from the place Meg's life fell apart will hasten her recovery I am sure. Getting away from the opera house in Paris changed my life immensely. I just wish it had not come about at such a great expense.

Stepping out of the carriage in front of the hotel it came to me that perhaps I should have come in the back way. I may have been able to walk about in the festive confines of Coney Island but here among ordinary people living their ordinary lives will be different. Fleck had checked me into The Wisteria. Madame had seen to her own accommodations using my funds. All I had to do that night was cross the lobby. I carried a worn out Gustave in my arms. I suppose his body shielded me from the clerk's curious gaze. Fleck disappered like the ghost I used to be.

I couldn't stand here on the pavement all day. That would draw more attention than I would like. I rarely wear my cloak anymore as it gives me a sinister look. I have taken to wearing fine wool in winter and a light cotton overcoat on chilly spring and summer evenings. I have even been known to carry a cane. A freak I may seem but a gentlemanly one to be sure. Among my people I felt nearly like a king must feel dressed in all my finery here I feel like a fish out of water.

Entering the lobby it will be necessary for me to speak to the front desk attendant. He is an older looking gentleman so he may be more able to keep any consternation from showing outwardly. Only a slight start from him relieves a little of the tension in my shoulders. Whatever his feelings are about the way I look he is too well trained to let them show.

"May I be of service to you sir," he asks in the typical stiff self important sort of manner one expects from key employees of hotels catering to those members of society used to having every whim met with alacrity and those lower in station bowing and scraping. It felt good to be on the other end of such respect.

"I am here to see Madame Giry if you would be so good as to inform her I am waiting in the lobby," I command with a matching haughtiness coloring my tone.

"Ah, sir, you must be Monsieur Erik. I mean no disrespect but Madame did not pass on your surname, only Monsieur Erik. She left a message for you," he says as he turns around to retrieve an envelope

Questions drift through my mind. Why leave a note when we could speak face to face? Well I do not like the answers to those questions once I have the words right before my eyes. Madame it would seem could not stand the guilt steming from her part in Meg's breakdown. She had packed her bags and left for parts unknown. At least she had taken care of Meg's needs. One of the maids visited Meg's rooms as often as work allowed then spent the night taking care of her.

By the time I have finished reading the short and to the point note I wish to throttle someone, preferably Madame Giry. I could not imagine that Madame would leave her daughter at a time such as this. If ever Meg needed her mother it was at this very moment. What in God's name was I to do with Meg now? Earlier I made mental plans to install the two women in some cottage out in the country but no where in my plans did I fit in as a caretaker.

Usually a room number of a guest would not be given out but apparently Madame had the foresight to describe me so I would be allowed upstairs and quite possibly to prepare the young man at the front desk for my strange appearance. Following the directions I had been given I found Meg's room. What I would say to her I hadn't a clue. Part of me wanted to strike out at her whilst telling her exactly what sort of woman I thought her to be then beating her about until some of my anger cooled. What made me think I would let go of my anger so quickly and easily? My earlier mood of forgive even if I could not forget appeared to be melting away like ice in the summer sun.

Hoping I will not do her some damage I knock on the door. The helpful clerk told me at this time of the day Marie, the maid taking care of Meg, would be giving Meg her lunch. I am a bit confused by the clerk's manner of speaking about Meg. He made it sound as she were half-witted without any idea how to care for herself. A pretty young woman in her mid twenties opened the door. From her calm demeanor I assumed she too had been expecting me.

"Oh praise be. You've come at last. I am at my wits end. The young Miss hasn't eaten a thing in two days and not one word has she spoken. Mrs. Giry left a couple of days ago and hasn't been seen since. What I wouldn't like to do to that mother of poor Miss Meg, begging your pardon sir."

She need not beg my pardon. Mademoiselle Marie may have to stand in line to await her turn at meting out some just punishment to Madame Giry as I am at the head of the line and what I have in mind should we meet again will take some time to accomplish.

"Might I come in?" I ask as calmly as I can. I don't want to stand discussing private business in a hallway where any guest may come along at any time.

"Oh, well bless me sir of course. Come in, come in. Please forgive my lapse in manners but I have been so very distraught what with Meg's mother hiring me then flitting off in the middle of the night with only a short note telling me to stay until a man named Erik came along. I suppose you'd be Mr. Erik?" she enquired hopefully. Obviously Madame had given her a description of me just as she had the man downstairs. I'd play along with Mademoiselle Marie's playacting. Perhaps she aspired to be on the stage. I won't be needing any more performers as I will be selling out just as soon as time allows.

"Oh and sir you may call call me Marie. Mademoiselle sounds so formal, so French," she says in a coquettish manner. She is young enough to still be unmarried thus I used the French form of address without thinking. I would have preferred to keep our acquaintance on a more formal footing but saw no way out at the present time. If she were French this would not be so much of a problem. Living in America I have learned how to speak English enough to carry on an intelligent conversation. Madame, Meg and I spoke in our native French when conversing with one another but spoke in English when dealing with others. Learning the language had been a painstaking ordeal. At times it is easier to express myself in French. The general population of Americans have become too lax when it comes to addressing one another. They assume a familiarity that still makes me uneasy.

Bowing I say, "As you wish Marie. You may call me Erik," I reply just barely refraining from reminding her she took a liberty in calling me Monsieur Erik. I realize I am nitpicking but this woman is too familiar with me. I suppose it would help if I actually had a surname other than Mister Y that I use for my business dealings at Coney Island. I have a son now should I not also have a last name? We won't share that name but it would humanize me more. I can't say if that would be in my own eyes or Raoul's and Gustave's. For such a long time I did not equate myself with being human. I had no rights or privileges of normal humans therefore I was as the gypsies said, a demon, a Devil's Child, not human. At the opera house it was no better. There I was a phantom, ghost and Angel of Music. Not human. I can see a surname in my future.

Wanting to get directly to the purpose of my visit I direct her to take me to Meg. At this hour of the day she should have been up and dressed for the day. The sight before my eyes when I enter her bedroom gives even my hardened heart a jolt of sympathy. The woman before me is not the bright-eyed, golden haired beauty I have known for so very long. Before me is a mere shell of a woman.

The dressing gown she is wearing retains the wrinkles from lying abed without removing the garment. Her lovely hair is tangled and looks unwashed. Meg always took pride in her hair. I must confess it is one of the few things about her I took notice of. If Christine had not owned every piece of my heart I might have succumbed to Meg's attractions. I can't imagine it but perhaps I would have done so. A man can settle for less if left starving long enough. I had starved for intimacy since I first got the urge to explore my sexuality.

I call out softly, "Meg." She doesn't respond by even turning her head toward me or even by making a slight movement. A statue could not have lain more still. If Marie had not assured me she was alive I could be forgiven for thinking the opposite. It does not feel right for me to have any tender emotions toward the person who took Christine from me but I do. What have I done? All that has passed between Madame, her daughter and I led to the destruction of another innocent young woman. Sympathy crowds its way into my heart. The unfamiliar emotion fills me with unease. I wish I could feel nothing for her other than to think this is no more than she deserves but I can't. Right now I feel as if Christine is hovering over me whispering in my ear to take care of her poor lost sister. It is just what she would feel and say. Christine had a very forgiving soul.

An urge to leave will not be quelled. Abruptly I issue instructions for Marie to give notice to the hotel that she will no longer be an employee. From now on she will devote herself to Meg's care exclusively. This will ease my conscience in the days to come when I will not be able to set foot in this hotel let alone Meg's room. This is too much to ask of me so soon after watching as they lowered Christine's coffin into the ground. I want to shout at Meg to get up and face what she has done. She still breaths. She is not covered with cold earth prey to nature and the natural course of time's breakdown of such a beautiful person as Christine. It is not fair. Christine and I were on the brink of coming together finally after so many wasted years living in purgatory. Swiftly I left before I gave into those dark imaginings filling my head. It would not do for me to be imprisoned now. Christine may have been taken from me but she gave me the knowledge of my son's existence. I must keep him in the forefront of my mind lest I let go my sanity once again thus condemning me to no life at all.

**A/N: Please leave a comment. Reviews are greatly appreciated. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

**Shackled by Sins**

Four weeks I have pushed Meg from my mind. Not altogether but enough that I could dismiss any guilt I felt. Gustave refused to come back to me after being with Raoul the day of Christine's funeral. That nearly broke my heart. It isn't anything Raoul has told him as much as I would like to think that is the cause. No, it is because to him I am still a stranger. While his mother lived and introduced him to me slowly he could accept my presence. As she lie dying she essentially gave Gustave to me. Now I can see how cruel it was of Christine to blurt out such important life changing information at such a devastating moment. How she expected Gustave to react I am sure is not what the reality is. That night he allowed me to take him with me but I feel it was more because he experienced a traumatic shock than he trusted or cared for me. I am not even sure he believes I am his father. A boy of his age does not know about such intimate details of his father and mother's life that he could readily accept that the man he thought of as his father suddenly wasn't his father and not only that but another man had been named as his father by his dying mother.

What a mess we have all made of things. Each of us conducted ourselves with our own interests as our guide while an innocent child had been a pawn placed in the center of our triangle. Meg I don't credit with as much blame as I do Raoul, Christine and myself. There is plenty of blame to be shared and once her mind clears reality will set in letting Meg see her own culpability. Pain of such unimagiable magnitude is what waits for her.

Dear God I wish I had been clairvoyant or omnipotent as I liked to believe. Now I know it had been my willingness to trample over anyone in my path that had made others bow to my will. All my life I wanted to be recognized as a man yet once I had it became evident I am not a very good or honorable person. It is so easy to blame my earlier years and the consequent years after the gypsy fair for all my anger, vindictiveness and murderous rage but it is not an acceptable reason or plausible excuse for everything I did. So many people had it worse than I did yet managed to hold onto their humanity. There are times when I think perhaps there is some mental instability I may have inherited from my parents. I can not confirm this as I do not know either of them or remember them.

It is to be hoped Christine's blood will dilute any negative traits I may have passed on to Gustave. Raoul hasn't exactly been a sterling example in recent years but he is making an effort to change. I can see he is still struggling with his addictions just as I have done in the past. Love and support will see him through. I just pray he does not seek that support from his family in France. If he tried to remove Gustave from me now I don't know what I might do. I can't lose him. He is my only living reminder of Christine.

Today I will be visiting Meg. It isn't something I want to do but duty dictates that I do so. Raoul to his credit did make one visit but has not gone back since. I didn't ask how he found her and he did not offer. She must have disturbed him because he looked quite pale when he returned back home. He had graciously let me stay with Gustave while he ran some errands. Raoul did not tell me he would be paying a visit to Meg. It had been Gustave who told me his father's itinerary.

As of yet Gustave still exhibits signs of not being totally at ease in my presence. He has seen me without my mask but I do not visit him without it firmly in place. It is better he sees me in a less frightening light than what he must remember is hidden from sight. The servants are becoming less fidgety around me. They seem less inclined to burn me at the stake the last few visits. I have even been wished good health upon leaving one afternoon.

Since I know where I will find Meg there is no reason to stop at the front desk which is a good thing as it is crouded in the hotel today. Several people pass me on the stairs and coming down the hallway. The hotel has an elevator and I imagined more people would use it to go from top to bottom and vice versa. Not me. I am used to climbing up stairs and ropes.

My steps have slowed as I draw nearer to my destination. It annoys me that such a small person can cause so much angst in me. The anger I understand but this fear of facing her fragility is very unsettling. One reason could be that I share most of the blame for Meg's current situation. No matter what justifications I try to use in my defense none clears me of blame entirely. Knowing myself all too well it is likely I will find some reason to forgive my responsibility for anything that contributed to Christine's death.

My knock is answered quickly by Marie. Her manner is more formal than before. Addressing ones employer is different from addressing someone on an equal footing. "Welcome Mister," she pauses expectantly.

Deciding on what to call myself had given me a few sleepless nights. A walk through the cemetery only made me maudlin about missing Christine. No name jumped out at me from the many headstones. No one will care what I call myself so I chose Garnier. Did the famous architect not design and build my last home? In this way I will honor his great gift to me even if it had not been intended as such. Mr. Erik Garnier shall now be who I am. Mister Y will fade away once all his interests in Coney Island have been sold off.

"Garnier, Erik Garnier," I inform her with a slight bow. My gentlemanly behavior is coming along better than I had hoped. Tipping my hat toward ladies, giving a bow toward them out of respect is new for me as is opening a door if one should be coming or going just as I come to a door. Next thing I know I'll be serving in a soup kitchen downtown.

"Mr. Garnier I am so glad you have come. Meg has been getting out of bed but still will not respond to me verbally. I know she hears me and understands me as she responds to my commands when I dress and undress her. Such a sad looking young woman. Such a shame she is…well not quite right."

"Indeed," is all I can manage. Total forgiveness has not come just yet and perhaps it never will.

"Would you like to see her? I can bring her out and set her up in a chair so you can have a nice long visit. I can busy myself with some errands," Marie offers expectantly.

Being alone with Meg is the last thing I want. I nearly shouted an emphatic 'No!' when Marie made her offer. I'd rather not be in the same room with someone I want to throttle yet can't lift a finger toward them because to do so would be monstrous.

"Of course you must go. It was remiss of me not to arrange for your days off. Starting this week Tuesdays and Saturdays will be your own to do with as you please. If you have errands during the week that need tending just send me a message and I will make other arrangements."

I'd like to order her to stay with Meg all the time but that would be unreasonable. Marie is too much of a Godsend to jeopardize causing her an upset. Not many women would be willing to sit with someone considered not right in the head. Disorders such as Meg's can cause discomfort in others. I know from my own unstable psyche that not much is understood about the workings of the mind. I can blame my sorry life for all my transgressions but deep inside I know there is a part of me that isn't normal. I can control it most of the time and more so in the last few years but who knows what or who will set me off the next time? I know what darkness haunts my dreams but I can only imagine what lurks in Meg's.

Opening the room to darkness I hear Marie say just before she exits, "Meg seems calmer if the lights are out. Perhaps you might persuade her to at least have a candle in her room. It is so hard to take proper care of her without being able to see by anything more than the light coming in the opened door."

It isn't necessary for me to answer and I don't know what to say in any case. My presence may drive Meg further into her nightmare rather than coax her to find her way back. So much of my life I lived in darkness and refuse to continue to do so or let Meg keep traveling down that path. I'll light the beside lamp and deal with the consequences whatever they may be. Considering that Meg hasn't left her bed for longer than a few minutes at a time I don't think it is wise to remove Meg at present. I inform Marie of my decision. She must agree with me as she offers no protest when I gve her permission to leave me alone with our charge.

Cautiously I strike the match as I explain, "Meg, it is Erik. I am here for a visit. We cannot have a proper conversation in the dark so I am lighting the bedside lamp. There is nothing to be afraid of."

Nothing comes from the lump on the bed. For all I know it could be pillows stuffed underneath the covers. The light is blinding at first but soon my eyes adjust. When they do I am unable to keep the shock I feel from escaping in a gasp. My God! If I had not known what a beauty Meg was before I can see that nothing in her appearance now speaks of anything other than frail emaciated skin and jutting bones. Her eyes are open but show no life at all.

The pillow has stray hairs which I surmise have fallen from Meg's head. Malnutrition is the culprit would be my guess. Not because Marie doesn't attempt to feed her but because Meg refuses to eat out of guilt. Starving herself in her mind seems a just punishment for taking her dear sister's life. Once again I want to wrap my hands around Madame's neck. Perhaps if she had stayed Meg might have listened to her after the first days of grieving had passed.

On the nightstand is a bowl of soup long gone cold but still edible and filled with much needed nourishment. From now on I will have a set schedule when I come to visit and on those days there will be a standing order for a tray to be sent up with an array of foods that will tempt any appetite.

Taking the bowl I sit down on the side of the bed softly speaking as I do, "Meg. I am going to put a spoon to your mouth and you will drink every drop of the soup. I know you are in there and can hear me. Take it from one who knows, the world you are in is not one you should stay in for long. Reality may not be exactly what we wish it to be but it is far better than the darkness we tend to keep buried in our minds. Everyone has that dark place. Most are strong enough to never go into that place while others glory in what they find there. For a time I did. Christine began the process of bringing me out of my darkness. You know she would not want you to stay in that place for long Meg. Healing is one thing. Giving in to death is another."

Lifting the spoon to her mouth there are barely a few droplets of liquid on the spoon. At this rate it will take hours to finish the bowl but I can't risk choking her if she does not swallow. After only a few spoonfuls I realized this would not work. Meg needed to be propped up so that the liquid at least made it into her mouth and didn't dribble down the side onto the bed.

In order to gain the results I wanted I would have to prop Meg against my chest so that I could use one hand to massage her throat making sure that she swallowed. I know this method works on animals and pray that it works on humans also. I can't ever recall being this close to Meg as I lean her up then wedge my shoulder behind her. My hip comes to rest intimately close to hers in a disconcerting manner. As much as I used to crave closeness with others once I got it my inclination for contact lessoned as being in close proximity to others is disconcerting to me. Usually I keep an invisible parameter around me that those who know me accepted and honored. I let Christine and Gustave inside that space with disastrous results. What would I do to Meg once she entered that forbidden zone? For now I'd have to place all my anger and resentment in storage until Meg could fend for herself. Later there would be plenty of time for recriminations and accusations.

Many times at the opera house I came in contact with a skeleton. At the moment that is what Meg feels like, a skeleton. She is hardly any weight at all leaning back against me. Feelings of a softer nature are unwelcome inside of me but they cannot be kept at bay. Sympathy mixed with regret and so many other emotions allow me to treat Meg with the tenderness that is needed at this time. Slowly I begin to place spoonful after spoonful to her lips speaking of nonsense in a soft reassuring tone just as I used to do for Christine when she experience a fright or nightmare during the night. It is only now coming to me that Meg would have heard me on those occasions as her cot and Christine's were side by side in the dormitory. I wonder why she never said anything to anyone about knowing who visited Christine. Perhaps once she is well Meg will tell me herself.

To my amazement Meg downed every bit of the soup. Her eyes remained fixed and not one word passed her lips the whole time. Leaving her as comfortable as I could make her I slipped out of the room. Needing to be able to hear if she should make a sound I left the door ajar. I extinguished the lamp before leaving her room. Meg had not shown any uneasiness about having the lamp on so maybe that will continue once Marie takes up her vigil once again.

When Marie returned I wasted no time informing her of the changes that would take place. I wanted nothing more than to remove myself from this situation as fast as I could. Meg reminded me of things I would rather forget. I'd see her through this then cut all ties with her. Remaining calm around her may not be something I can continue indefinitely. Better not test my ability to stave off darker thoughts and actions. Get her health back then work on her mental stability. Perhaps the two go hand in hand. We shall see. What I know is that Meg and I are like two shakled prisoners. We share the same fate to a certain extent just as our sins bind us even more.

**A/N: Shameless begging for reviews. I need the boost to my morale. **


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Road to Recovery

As unfeeling as I can be not even I could ignore Meg's plight for ever. I may resent it but the reality is I am the only person she can lean on and as anyone who knows me will attest I am not of a sound mind nor kind spirit. In Christine's memory I will do what must be done until such time as I can wash my hands of this whole mess except for Gustave.

Day by day Meg gained ground. Vitality returned along with the weight she had recently lost. Marie managed to give Meg's hair a quick wash then brushed it before putting it in two plaits. She looked more child than woman. Not one word has passed her lips but I did get a squeeze from her hand as I helped her to lie down on her pillow a few days ago. I am conflicted emotionally when in Meg's presence. Even the hardest of hearts would feel sympathy for her. I don't want to hate anymore. What I would like to feel is nothing. Feeling nothing would mean not having guilt eating away at me for my part in all of this. This new found sense of responsibility I could well do without. It comes with having family and friends. It will take a while for me to know if it is an even trade, a conscience free or guilt or having people to care about and expect a certain amount of consideration in return.

Yesterday I believe I saw the beginnings of a tremulous smile. That small gesture gives me hope. From wanting nothing to do with her in the beginning I am finding that I look forward to my visits with her. Contrary to my belief that Gustave would wish Meg a world away he asks after her wellbeing. When I enquired about his interest he told me that his mother had bid him to forgive Meg just before life left her. Being a dutiful son he has found a way to let go of some of his grief just as I suspect Christine had hoped. Raoul is melancholy most of the time. Withdrawal is a bitch as I know well. I can sympathize with him. On days when it is the worst I find myself wanting to distract Gustave from his father's weakness. Raoul's comfort should be of little concern to me but I find I don't want Gustave to lose respect for his father.

Strangely I do not yet feel like a father for all my insistence in the beginning I had my rights and everyone else be damned. Maybe it is the loss of Christine which has mellowed me or perhaps I am growing as a human being. I find myself thinking of how things affect others before considering how they will affect me. Is it so important that the world knows Christine lie with me before she wed her husband? Need I shame us all proclaiming our sins to the world? Gustave will always know he is a part of me. No one can take that from me. Raoul is the better father for him at the moment. He is more lenient with my visiting than I would have been with him. I see no gain to insisting Gustave come to me on a permanent basis. That is a battle I know I would lose. Gustave loves Raoul despite being ill-treated by him. If I thought for one minute Raoul ever laid a hand on my son I'd have taken Gustave to the ends of the earth and buried us so deep in the ground an archeologist could not find us.

One day on my way to see Meg I pass a flower shop. Today for no apparent reason I find myself stopping to look over the colorful array of flower arrangements. I shy away from the red roses. Some very lovely daffodils catch my eye. When Meg is her old self I do think her hair will be close to that color in the sun. Am I comparing Meg's hair to daffodils? What idiocy is this? Proximity and being without a woman's soft body beneath my own is leading me down this forbidden path. I missed my chance with Marie so I will not receive any welcome from that direction. I lost count ages ago how many times I have cursed God for making me a man unable to copulate like normal men. In three decades I only shared intimacy with one woman on one occasion. Will my next three decades be a barren wasteland? Using poor misguided Meg for such selfish reasons would be crueler than even I could stand. All hate for her left during my time taking care of her. I no longer wish for her immediate departure from my life. I even miss Madame at times.

Whatever madness possessed me I found my way into that flower shop purchasing a double bouquet of daffodils. Foregoing hailing a cab I walk along with every step wanting to toss those innocent blooms into the nearest trash receptacle. Every block brought me nearer to the point when I would be committed to either tossing them or giving them to Meg. I could hardly give them to Marie. Our footing stayed firmly on employee to employer. That seemed to relieve both of us any temptation to waiver from our chosen positions.

Bypassing the front desk has become second nature for me by now. I seem to have become such a fixture that I barely warrant a glance anymore. Even guests, coming and going, seem not to take particular notice of me. I wonder if it is a case of my not worrying if they do that does not draw attention to me. Is it like staring at someone brings their glance toward yours? Why I am even wasting brain matter on such frivolous conjecture is beyond my scope of understanding. I will not give any credence to the voice inside my head taunting me about being nervous of being with Meg. Nonsense, I've been alone with her many times over the years without giving it a second thought.

Since Marie runs errands during Meg's naptime I have availed myself of a key to the suite. Today Marie left shortly before my arrival. As promised she left a note with details of how Meg seemed today. My instructions about hot meals being made available at certain times have been followed to the letter. During Meg's recovery I have found my own appetite has increased. Before food seemed something I must have, not something I particularly wanted. Music sustained me body and soul for many years with food being a necessary evil.

Today I plan to set Meg in one of the armchairs in her room. If nothing disastrous comes from that maybe we can progress to trying to get her to grasp her own spoon. Entering the bedroom soft lighting greets me. Marie has bathed Meg and put on a becoming nightdress. I do wish now I had thought to instruct Marie to put Meg's dressing gown on. Either I set her in the chair without it or put it on her myself. Neither proposition sounds appealing.

Just in case she is aware of me more than she lets on I inform her, "Meg I shall be placing you in a chair today. That will require that I put on your dressing gown and lift you into my arms. I don't wish to alarm you. If you feel at all uncomfortable please show me in some way that I can understand."

Naturally silence is the only reply. Picking up the dressing gown laid out at the end of the bed I find it is no more substantial than her nightdress. I can see no earthly purpose to something so diaphanous that a person can see nearly every detail on the other side of the thin cloth.

After several false starts a film of sweat begins to coat my skin. No matter how I go about this it requires me wrapping my arms around Meg and for our bodies to come into intimate contact. If I didn't know better I'd swear I saw a slight smile on Meg's lips after one such failed attempt. Coming to the conclusion needs must I did what I had to do. Meg's weight still felt slight but more substantial than before. Her dancer's body had never held much weight to begin with. Memories of another woman in my arms in this same manner flood me with so much emotion I have to choke back the rise of what I know is a sob wanting to make my pain known to the world.

Briefly I glance toward the window beckoning me to do something I know I would later regret. The struggle between good and evil had not been a stumbling block for me in my prior life but now my conscience sounds out loud and clear keeping me from committing another murderous act. Too many lives have been taken by my hands. It is time I use them to restore life. It is what Christine would want and what my heart tells me is the right thing to do.

Not being blameless for the current situation I feel it is necessary for me to do all that I can to help rectify some of the damage. Gustave will not ever see or hear his mother again but if he can be the greater man and forgive Meg then so can I. With time and patience I am sure I shall.

Having placed Meg in the chair and covered her legs it is now becoming clear I have not thought of all the things a caretaker must do. Will Meg be able to alert me if she needs to use the facilities? If she does what do I do then? Call room service? Perhaps a more detailed discussion with Marie would have been advisable. My prior visits had been limited to an hour or two. Today I would be here for several hours alone with a woman I assume does not communicate verbally. This is only supposition on my part but I believe Marie must simply tell Meg she is taking her to her bath or whatever else is required for an invalid. Meg is not strictly speaking an invalid only nonverbal and not of a right mind.

When only an hour and a half later I hear Marie's key in the lock it is touch and go whether or not I hug her neck then forbid her leave the suite again.

"So how did you find Miss Meg then? I am so glad you got her to sit in the chair. I would put her in one but by myself I am afraid I might drop her and it doesn't feel right to call on a stranger for help. I have to say Meg seems to have perked up since you started coming every day. She doesn't speak but her eyes can say a thousand words that a person can read if they care to do so. She is very expressive that way. I imagine normally she is a very vibrant young woman. I know it isn't my place to ask what happened to her and I won't but I will say it is a shame, a darn shame."

Finally Marie pauses for breath giving me a chance to say, "Meg ate well today. I think tomorrow you should encourage her to dress. If you need help hire someone you trust."

Reaching into my inner pocket I pull out an envelope filled with enough money to purchase any luxury Meg may want or Marie may want to give her. Money means little to me other than it can buy goods and services. I no longer need to steal what I want or need. Placing the envelop on the table beside Meg's chair I say, "This should see you through the next few weeks. My visits may become less frequent as I wish to spend time with…I have other obligations."

"You are such a generous man. I tell Meg so every day. She is a lucky woman to have you as her fiancée."

Shocked for a moment by this presumption I cannot get any words past my tightening throat. It had not occured to me that anyone would assume I am Meg's fiancé. I suppose it was inevitable for everyone to assume I am either her fiancée or Meg is my mistress as it is my money finacing Meg's recovery. I should be flattered and I suppose in a small way I am.

Marie imagines Meg would have me? Before more negative thoughts can take over my brain I recall that if Meg cared nothing for me none of the events from the past couple of months would have happened. Christine had been my choice for a bride and even she refused me once. From the following exchanges between us I believe it is safe to conclude she would have come to me after freeing herself from Raoul. I may not be handsome, charming or anything others consider gentlemanly but two very beautiful women had been willing to be with me. Does this not mean I am desirable to some women? Does it not mean I can be loved despite my shortcomings? I can be loved. I can love without force or coercion.

Realization of just how far I have come hits me dead center. Life does not have to end for me. Whether I travel life's road alone or with someone beside me it will be a choice not a condemnation from humanity if I walk through life alone. It feels strange to think of myself going out and finding a woman to court. Am I even capable of such a thing? Probably not but it is good to have that option should my courage surface enough to try and win someone's regard. Christine's loss is too fresh to look at women in terms of intimacy or forever.

Marie's mistake will go uncorrected by me. Besides giving a legitimate reason for my concern about Meg's welfare it is simpler to let things stand rather than give a blow by blow account of past events. Once Meg comes around she can put things right.

When I lean down to pick up Meg's hand to place a kiss on the back of her hand she grips me tighter when I would have removed my hand from hers. First she turns to where I have placed a vase with her flowers. A small smile creeps across her lips. Without speaking she looks directly into my eyes. It is as Marie said. Meg can speak a thousand words without using her voice. Anyone could see the plea for forgiveness clouding her blue eyes. Squeezing her hand I whisper, "You are forgiven Meg." Hastily I depart before the single tear at the corner of her eye can fall. I am not ready for her tears. Not yet, maybe not ever.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I am so remiss in keeping up with thanking everyone for continuing to support me. I appreciate every review. Not everyone allows replys to reviews so this is for everyone following Life Can be Lived Alone. **

**Chapter Six**

**Getting to Know You**

My life is so confusing at the moment. Not where Gustave and I are concerned but what role Meg is to play in my life if there is to be a role at all. Her fragile state pulls at tender places in me I did not know existed outside my fascination with Christine. I want to dismiss what is growing between Meg and I but it gets harder every day we spend together. Shamefully I use Gustave as an excuse to forgo visits with Meg. Today is just such a day.

Watching Gustave at the piano I see a lot of his mother in him. Raoul's mannerisms are there too. It is sad that nothing outwardly represents me as far as something in Gustave's makeup is concerned. I should be happy he has my inquisitive mind and musical talent. Alas he enjoys music but does not have the passion for it that burned so hot in me for so long. I too have felt a cooling in my blood where music is concerned. Going over many of my compositions I find that the notes tell my story more clearly than I could if I put pen to paper and wrote my autobiography. All my pain, anger, longings and hatred are written in every musical note. One could say my music is my autobiography. I do not wish to leave as my legacy to Gustave the crazed compositions of a madman.

Gustave and I have spent some quality time together. At least it has been so in my eyes. He seems reluctant to leave Raoul for any length of time. I feel it is because he fears Raoul will relapse back into a drunken stupor and once again neglect his son, my son. So far he has not let himself get so out of control. The stench of alcohol is not as strong as it used to be but can still be smelled upon his person once in a while. Little indulgences to calm his nerves and quiet the gnawing ache I suppose is better than if he downed a whole bottle. Credit must be given where credit is due. He has more strength than I would have. By now I'd have been so far gone I might never find my way back. There had been a time in my youth I used morphine to ease all the pain I felt. Better to suffer the pain than let that demon brew take over ones life. When I made the decision to wean myself off that drug I had to lock myself away until my want for it lessoned and my will to live free of its influence took over.

Today I have no wish to relive past mistakes. Today our son, mine and Raoul's, turns eleven. In a few years he will be a young man. I don't care to think of him growing up and living a life where I might not have a place. I am a self-taught man and fear Gustave will outgrow me mentally. What man likes to be outdone by another? To have a son show up the father might be humiliating. Do normal fathers want their children to know more than they do? Do they encourage their children to go beyond the boundaries of what the eye can see? The answers to these questions must be yes as man would not progress if our children learned only what we taught them and did not have a natural interest in the unknown.

For Gustave's birthday I made him a kite. Not a normal kite but one that has a mechanism inside that will turn in the wind producing tinkling musical sounds. I hope it pleases him. I won't admit it to myself that I am competing with Raoul for not only Gustave's love but his admiration as well. Does not a boy have hero worship for his father? I want that from Gustave. I want him to look to me for guidance and approval. Every time Gustave seeks Raoul's approval I want to smash something, preferably Raoul's handsome face. He and I may have an understanding but that doesn't preclude any secret hidden desires I may live out in my mind to harm Raoul. Many nights I dream of locking him away so I might have Gustave all to myself.

My visits to Raoul's are accepted without so much as a raised brow from any of the staff. I am shown in immediately and welcomed by Raoul and Gustave if he is present. Today is no different.

"Erik! Come see what Papa gave me for my birthday. It is a train. He says I can add to it. Make a whole city around it. I opened his gift but wanted to wait for you before cutting my cake," he excitedly exclaims. I don't think he took one breath during this little speech.

It pleases me more than I can say that he thought of me when presented with his cake. Progress no matter how small is still progress. I make suitable exclamations about his train set. My wounded pride is soothed when he makes an equal fuss over my gift to him and when he asks Raoul if we may all go to the park to fly it I cannot contain my joy. Awkwardly I pat him on the shoulder. Raoul sends me a look I cannot interpret. He looks from me to Gustave. Is he encouraging me to show more demonstrative affection for my son? The idea takes root and I react instinctively. For the first time I pull him to me for an embrace. Having made the move I await his reaction. My heart stills until I feel his arms going around my waist. Patting his back awkwardly I raise my glance so I might see Raoul's reaction. I find a mirror of my own emotions from just a moment ago. Raoul can begrudge me Gustave's affections just as I begrudge them toward him the difference being Raoul encouraged me to take a step forward where Gustave is concerned.

"Of course we must go to the park. Today is a perfect day for flying a kite. Erik is quite clever to have thought of such a gift and to make it with his own hands it should be doubly appreciated," Raoul says reluctantly. Is it small of me to glory in his envy?

After eating a piece of birthday cake Raoul tells Gustave to go fetch his hat and jacket. I can feel a conversation coming on which I will not likely care to hear. As soon as the door clicks shut behind Gustave Raoul says, "Erik, there is a delicate matter we must discuss. I must return to France for a while to attend to business. My…my neglect over the years has resulted in near ruination of the family's financial wellbeing. I would like to take Gustave with me. I realize how difficult it will be to let him go especially just now but I give you my word of honor as a gentleman we will return at the soonest possible moment. I won't keep him from you. It hurts me to say this but Gustave needs you in his life just as he needs me. Christine assured you a place in his life the moment she told him you are his father."

My gratification that Raoul acknowledges my importance in my son's life is diminished by Raoul's statement that he would be taking Gustave away from me. All I heard was Raoul would be going to France and taking my son with him. For a few seconds time stands still then a roaring begins in my ears as a grey fog clouds my mind. I feel the rage rising and try to hold it back. I cannot let my inner demon out, not now, not with my son upstairs. I won't be that man again. I won't let myself fall into that trap again.

Taking deep breaths I manage to curb the rising tide of rage against Raoul. Rational thought is needed. What is it Raoul has actually said? He would take Gustave to France with him. On his honor he promised to bring Gustave back. He isn't taking my son from me or denying me access to him permanently. Raoul has family in France who may wish to see Gustave. It would be natural for Raoul's parents to want to see their son and grandson. All my instincts are telling me to grab Gustave and run. My instincts have failed me so many times I cannot trust any emotion that comes too quickly and act on it without consideration.

Carefully I sit down giving myself time to collect myself before I reply. I must appear rational and of sound mind. To act in haste will jeopardize my relationship with Gustave. When Raoul takes the seat across from me I look directly at him so he will know I do not speak with any ideas of subterfuge, "Raoul honestly every instinct is telling me to take my son and run." I hold up my hand when he would have spoken then continue, "Having said that I know it is not the wise thing to do. At one time I would have acted hastily without any thought for the consequences. When one has another they are responsible for things change as I am sure you know as you are…well…damn it you are Gustave's father in his eyes. I may have fathered him but you are his father in every way that matters and as such will always hold first place in his heart. I won't say it doesn't pain me to know this but I must learn to accept it if I am to continue to be a part of my son's life."

Rubbing my sweating palms along my thighs I continue, "I hope I have grown enough that I can admit you are a man of honor and I know you would not do anything to harm Gustave. Proof of your commitment to him is evident in your continued fight against your addiction. Don't think I am belittling you because you are a fallible human being because that is not so. I only mention this as it shows your true character. Having dealt with my own demons where addictions are concerned I know first hand how hard they are to overcome. You are the only person I have ever told about my own weakness. I feel you should know that you are not alone and overcoming those cravings can be accomplished even if it is a hard won battle."

Raoul leans forward to clasp his hands between his knees before speaking quietly, "Erik, it is gracious of you to share this with me. Whatever our past has been we must now look to the future. We can't turn back the clock. If we could Christine would be walking through that door telling us to grow up and face our responsibilities as men."

Both of us turn toward the door as if we actually expect Christine to come floating in. I can feel the color of embarrassment rush into my face. Glancing briefly at Raoul I can see he is striving to cover his own moment of futile hope.

"So Erik, are we in agreement that Gustave, our…our son is the most important person in all of this and must be protected from both of the men who love him dearl?"

We both stand to face one another. Hesitantly Raoul reaches out his hand in a gesture men use to bind agreements. Not so long ago Raoul would have asked, no, demanded, we call in the lawyers for the slightest thing between us if he would have ever considered any dealings with me other than turning me over to the authorities to be executed. As far as I know he still could. Murder has no statute of limitations. Perhaps it is because we share a son that I do not feel any fear that Raoul is returning to France with Gustave and could with good reason inform the authorities of my whereabouts. For whatever reason I do have this unexplainable trust in Raoul. Were the situations reversed I believe I would do all I could to rid myself of anything or anyone I perceived as a threat to my wellbeing or getting in the way of what I want. For peace of mind and Gustave's continued confidence in my company I must conquer the urge to remove Raoul from my life permanently. I am changing but relapses are to be expected. Thinking is not doing. That is progress as far as I am concerned.

Raoul's grip is firm but not overly so. He is not making an attempt to show his power over mine. This is my first handshake and it feels right that it should be Raoul here to share my experience. We will share many firsts in our future if I can manage to keep a clear head.

Gustave comes running into the study with a child's natural exuberance. It is good to see his smile coming more often. I like to think that some of his returned joy in life is due to my presence. He may not love me but I do feel affection from him at times. His hugging my waist is a small step which hopefully will be followed by many more.

Our outing is a complete success. Even Raoul sheds his melancholy long enough to laugh at Gustave's efforts to get the kite off the ground. The three of us pitch in and soon it is soaring into the glorious blue sky.

On the way home we decide to hire a cab as Gustave is looking very tired. A nap is in his future. When we arrive at Raoul's home I am surprised when Gustave stops at the door of the cab and turns to me and asks, "Erik, before I leave with Papa could I come visit Mademoiselle Meg? I think Mama would want me to. I have some things I must tell her and so very much to ask."

Raoul and I exchange glances. Neither of us appears to be in favor of this. Raoul keeps his own council so I assume he is leaving this decision to me. I'd like to say an emphatic

'No' but cannot seem to say that word to Gustave no matter what he requests. It is good that he is not solely in my control for I am too lenient when it comes to punishment I fear. I would give my son the world if I could.

"If that is what you want Gustave then I shall make the arrangements. Meg is…she will need to be made ready for your visit. You do remember I told you Meg is not herself just yet. She may or may not speak to you."

"I know she is…Papa says she is ill of mind and that we must forgive her for what she has done. Have you forgiven her Erik?"

Ah a good question. Even I do not know if I have entirely forgiven Meg for everything. I tell myself I have but by not visiting her these last two weeks prove I still harbor some animosity. I disregard a prickle to my conscience that my own confused feelings toward Meg caused my visits to cease.

If Raoul, Christine's husband can forgive Meg then so can I. Raoul and I as adults must show Gustave how to be tolerant and move past blame so we may move away from grief. We won't forget but we can forgive. I repeat that to myself nearly every day. Soon I must pay Meg a visit and now it will be much sooner than I anticipated. If Meg can indeed comprehend her surroundings as I suspect then Gustave's visit will have a profound effect on her. I pray she is ready to face that particular demon. Christine had not believed Meg would harm Gustave but one can never be certain. So many years had gone by without Meg and Christine coming into contact or corresponding that they had grown apart and become different people just as I had changed.

I am getting to know Gustave more each day and what I have learned is that his mother passed on to him a forgiving nature. Were not her last words to her son ones of pardon for Meg, the woman who ultimately took Christine's life? It is partly due to Christine that I have not abandoned Meg and partly because I feel guilt and responsibility toward her. Memories of the sweet innocent girl Meg had been persuade me that the evil she did was not done while in possession of her faculties. People of a normal psyche can under great duress suddenly lose the ability to think rationally and commit crimes they could not conceive under normal circumstances.

There have been times when I committed some vicious act in retaliation for some perceived slight against me that I could not remember doing later after the black haze had cleared. The line between sanity and insanity is very thin and can be crossed so easily. The way back for most is instant but for others such as Meg and me it takes much longer for our minds to adjust and rework our thought processes. Meg's state is more from guilt than anything else. Mine is rooted in some mental instability I have only recently been willing to own that I have. I wish there were some magic pill I could take but there isn't. I only have my knowledge to govern my behavior. Knowing how fragile my mental state can be I must work twice as hard as others to stay on an even keel. Incentive is a great motivator. Mine is earning my son's love and respect. I suspect Meg knows those around her care and show her in small ways that they do.

Madame loved, still loves Meg but did not show an overabundance of that emotion toward her daughter. Now when I think about those days I realize Meg got pushed into the background so Madame could focus on Christine as I commanded. Once again the road to destruction leads to me. By my demand Madame neglected her motherly duties so she could concentrate on Christine. My debt to those I have harmed weighs heavy on my newly formed conscience. Perhaps I should enquire how I might make recompense to those people harmed by my selfish actions. It would never erase what I did but perhaps might be a salve to my damaged soul.

I pray Meg is not lost forever in her dark world. There are signs she is coming back. God willing she will make a complete recovery. What will happen then has yet to be written. Time for that decision will come later. We must take one step at a time, one day at a time.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

**Mending the Mind**

There are only a few days left before Raoul and Gustave leave for France. Each day brings a new heartache. I have been a father for such a short time. Will Gustave forget me? Will I lose ground with him while he is away? Outwardly I show none of the boiling emotions inside of me. I want to shout out against the unfairness of giving me a child only to take him away again. My beloved was taken from me ripping my heart and soul into pieces. It has only just begun to mend and now I lose Gustave.

The rational part of my mind knows Raoul will keep his promise but the other part of me which remembers every cruelty committed toward me does not trust so easily. Forbidden thoughts crowd my mind. I have even gone so far as to pack a bag filled with enough money to take me and my son so far away we would be lost until I wanted to be found. Each time Gustave comes with me I bring my case with me in the cab. When he asks what I bring with me every visit I blatantly lie to him. Gustave is so trusting he believes I come from a business meeting every day.

On our last day together I have at last given in to Gustave's insistence that he speak with Meg. I feel no good will come of it but then I am not one to judge such things. Pessimism is ingrained into my brain so deeply I mostly see only the bad in everything. Very few exceptions come to mind as I weigh the good and bad a meeting between Meg and Gustave will have. Meg appears to be making progress even if there are no outward signs of it other than her improved health.

I am surprised when Raoul is waiting for me at the entryway of his home. He gave up his room at the hotel once he found a suitable residence.

"Erik I wish to speak with you privately before Gustave joins us," he says as he gestures me into his study.

I take the seat he offers me then wait as patiently as I can for him to get on with what he has to say. My nerves are causing some very unpleasant reactions in my stomach. I fear Raoul will tell me I cannot have Gustave on this my last day to be with him for many months.

After he sits down and moves around getting comfortable he says, "I thought long and hard about Gustave meeting with Meg. He seems as if he has forgiven her for what she did. He does have nightmares and wakes crying for his mother still. It is very upsetting for both of us. I must confess I have my own nightmares," Raoul admits with a hint of sadness in his voice.

"To look at him during the day one would never guess he had just lost his mother, a woman he loved dearly. It is in the dark of night that his demons come to visit. There are times when he believes Meg will come for him again. He has told me that he did not think Meg would have done him any real harm. At the time she had her break with reality Gustave represented just one more thing Christine had that she did not," he pauses to inhale deeply before resuming. I would like to speak but will wait until he has finished.

"Did you know that Meg knew Gustave was your son? Madame Giry knew as well. I can only imagine they learned how to gain private information from you, the infamous Opera Ghost," he attempts a bit of levity. It falls flat as neither one of us feels in a particularly jocular mood right now.

He sighs heavily then asks, "Erik do you really think Meg is…is over whatever demon claimed her mind that night? I know how close Meg and Christine were for so many years but ten years would inevitably bring about changes especially since they hadn't seen or written to one another in all those years."

He is asking me to diagnose someone's level of sanity? Does the man not remember that I was and possibly still can be a most unstable fellow myself?

"Honestly Raoul I don't know. Meg doesn't communicate with anyone. Using my own experience to measure her level of soundness I'd have to say once she comes round completely she will suffer from remorse, guilt and loss of both her sister and her mother," I offer as my honest opinion.

"Gustave will be in no danger. I will assure his safety at all costs." I let him imagine to what lengths I will go to protect Gustave. I committed murder for Christine. That fact must be circling around inside his head in a never-ending loop.

"I feel Gustave believes Christine wants him to face Meg and give her his pardon for all she has done. Christine was a very religious woman despite being brought up in an atmosphere of loose morals. Madame Giry should be commended for bringing both women up to be circumspect and chaste," I say and can see Raoul is thinking the same thing I am. Meg became something less respectable because of me. Unfamiliar shame is creeping over me. I don't like these feelings that come with having a conscience. Before I did what I felt necessary to survive but now I know there are better ways to gain the things one wants other than by using force and threats.

Quickly I change the direction this conversation has taken, "It is my belief Gustave needs to speak with Meg face to face as some form of ending what has been a living nightmare for him and indeed all of us. He told me Christine asked that he forgive Meg and I suppose to do so completely he must meet and assess whether or not Meg still instills fear in him."

It is my hope Gustave remains in ignorance of just how much his mother feared me at times. It would grieve me immensely to know he felt that emotion when in my presence. Being unsure during those first days was natural for the boy. Now he acts as he would around anyone else. I am not sure how I like that but there is time to become closer to him. We did embrace once the day of his birthday. I can build on that or could have if he wasn't leaving the country.

"I do trust you with Gustave's wellbeing Erik. I know you would not place him in a situation you thought dangerous. My own nerves where Meg is concerned color how I see her. I still harbor ill feelings toward her even if I remind myself she was once thought of as Christine's sister. I can't keep the image out of my head of Christine lying helpless and bleeding all because…" he stops to collect himself as his emotions begin to overwhelm him.

Raising his head to look directly at me he asks, "How do you do it Erik? How do you face her time and time again knowing what she did? I want to forgive and at times I believe I have but there are other days when I want to hunt Meg down and commit heinous acts against her. Knowing Christine would want me to rid myself of this deep lingering anger does not always bring me peace."

What should I say? That my own culpability leaves me little choice but to see to Meg's recovery? Should I tell him just how close I have come to harming Meg during one of my visits? For all I understand what drove her to do what she did I find it hard to sustain that understanding when a picture of how Christine looked on that last night of her life consumes me.

"Raoul I have no magical answer that will give either of us the peace we seek. As is the case in situations like this, recovery is a day to day process. Each person must find how to deal with the tragedy and loss in their own way. I haven't said it before but I am saying it now, I commend you for your continued struggle against taking the easy way out. I will confess such methods have crossed my mind more times than I like to admit. It is Gustave who keeps me on the straight and narrow just as I imagine he does for you."

Raoul sighs heavily then leans back in his chair closing his eyes as he asks, "Erik did you ever in your wildest imagination think you and I would have a common cause to fight for? Whatever there was or is between us we both want the same thing for Gustave. We want him healthy, happy and to continue being a part of our life. It is hard Erik to know another man came before me with my wife. It cuts like the sharpest knife to know she went to you days before our own wedding and gave herself to you. Has it never crossed your mind that Christine would have stayed with you if you had only given her the chance to do so? Although you were not physically in our lives you were a ghostly shadow that drove a wedge between us."

Turning his head toward me and opening his eyes he manages to speak through his pain, "She loved you Erik. Oh, I know she loved me too but you were always there between us. You might have thought I won all those years ago but it was a hollow victory. Christine could not rid herself of your hold on her. Truth be known I doubt she tried very hard."

Abruptly he leans forward and speaks almost angrily, "Do you know how many days and nights I had to listen to her sing your songs and play your music? The day Gustave was born she sang a lullaby that she had told me you sang to her when she was a child. To my son Erik she sang your songs."

I can see the glistening of tears he will not allow to fall as he begins again with increased passion, "Can you imagine how I felt on my wedding night to realize my newly wedded wife had been with another? I could not bring myself to ask her fearing I knew it all too well. I waited for her to proclaim her one trespass but nothing came, not even when Gustave was born. I loved Christine with every breath I took but got little satisfaction from winning her. Every night we shared a bed and I wondered if there was the ghost of a man lying with us. So you see Erik in reality I won nothing. How could it count as a victory when all I possessed was the shell of the woman I loved?"

Raoul quickly stands and goes to the window when we hear Gustave's feet running down the stairs. To give him time to recover I assist Gustave in putting on his jacket and make certain he has all he will need.

After protesting he is not a baby Gustave reasures Raoul as he works at buttoning his jacket, "Papa, I will be fine. Don't worry. Erik will not let anything happen to me."

Gustave looks to me for my agreement. Of course I won't let anything happen to him but it is unnerving that he broaches a subject so close to what Raoul and I were speaking about. We all think children don't listen to adult conversations or pick up on our fears and worries but they do. Raoul and I haven't spoken of anything that would not be proper for Gustave to hear unless he is out of the room. Our caution does include staff. Servants are a beehive of gossip.

"Anyone wishing you harm would have to come through me first. I…your father and I both will watch over you." I wanted to say that I as his father would naturally have his welfare in mind. Gustave doesn't need to be bombarded with that information constantly. For now it is enough I know it and Raoul recognizes my right. Gustave seems to have accepted me in his life. I will try not to be greedy and demand more than he can give.

All too soon we arrive at the hotel where Meg is staying. I wanted to ask Marie to stay today but it is her first day off in over a week. What with Gustave leaving I wanted to spend every available moment with him. I neglected Meg during this time.

Now that we are here I can see Gustave is less sure about this than he told us. His peace of mind is more important than anything he might offer to Meg in the way of pardon. It is a miracle we have let Meg's deed be kept silent between us. Meg's crime took a piece from each one of us that can never be replaced. There will always be a gapping hole where Christine lived, laughed and loved in our lives.

Marie asks if I will need her. I can tell she can feel something momentous is going to happen even if she doesn't know what. Meg is sitting in her usual chair. The sun is shining on her golden hair giving her the appearance of an angel. I can see the irony in that observation.

"Meg, I have brought a visitor. Gustave wishes to speak with you. Please do him the courtesy of answering any question he may pose," I say wanting to put a warning in my words but cannot if I want to keep Gustave from perhaps feeling my trepidation and acting on it.

"Erik, would it be alright if I spoke to Mademoiselle Meg in private?" Gustave asks me without so much as a tremor in his voice. One can sound one way and feel entirely different on the inside. That much I have learned over my long life. Gustave's eyes hold some fear. His outward show of confidence is for my benefit as he knows I would not let him within a mile of Meg if he displayed uncertainty. This meeting must be even more important to him than I suspected. Perhaps it will be in his mind something equivalent to facing some nightmarish entity Raoul spoke to me about.

Casting a glance toward Meg I notice her body has become stiff where only seconds ago she seemed relaxed. This is proof that she is still aware of her surroundings but is not yet ready to interact with anyone. Some part of me wishes to save her from the pain she must suffer as she faces the child of her now dead sister, a woman she killed during a break with reality. The other part of me thinks whatever Meg suffers will only be a small portion of what everyone else suffered and are still feeling the resulting agony of loss. Gustave's loss I feel is greater than either Raoul or I may feel.

Placing my hands on his shoulder reassuringly I say, "Gustave if at any time you wish to end this visit all you need do is tell me. I will be right outside on the balcony. If you call out I shall hear you. No one will think ill of you if this is too much to bear."

"I…I want to do this. I must do this Erik. Mama would have wanted me to do this. I don't know how I know, I just do," he says as he casts a quick glance in Meg's direction. I can see a tear rolling down her cheek and must steel myself against feeling any pity. She should feel a hundred fold what everyone else who loved Christine feels to have lost such a bright star in our dreary world.

Squeezing his shoulder I silently leave the room to take up my place on the balcony. I have no intention of staying here. As soon as I know Gustave is focusing on Meg I will cross the connecting balconies then use the ledge to make my way to the window in Meg's room. Entering her room will be easy because no lock ever kept me from going anywhere I wished to go. From this location I can hear every word and act quickly should I feel Gustave is in danger or experiencing any serious fear for his safety. Pray to God Meg has recovered her sound mind enough not to endanger my son. God only knows how much suffering I will let fall upon her head if one hair on his head is damaged.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

**Releasing the Trapped Dove**

Nearly killing myself several times did not deter me from forging ahead. I only breathe freely once I am safely inside Meg's bedroom. For all my posturing I must admit there is a part of me that does comprehend my fallibility. I am not omnipotent as I used to like to believe. Lord it gives me the shivers to recall all the chances I have taken over the years believing I controlled the world around me.

The window opens easily after only tinkering with it for a short time. No wonder so many guests are robbed and the thief is never caught. Perhaps security should be a field I might investigate as a way to increase my current wealth. I have a feeling that my responsibilities will be greater in the near future. Quietly I creep across the carpeted floor. Cracking the door I am grateful it makes no sound as I open it and listen to Gustave as he speaks to Meg in a similar manner that I do when addressing her. Her frailty affects me whether I want it to or not. With a boy as tenderhearted as Gustave and having his mother's gentle influence for so many years Meg must appear to be someone in need of protection rather than recrimination.

"Mademoiselle how are you today? Have you looked outside your window this afternoon? Perhaps if you feel up to it we can sit on the balcony later," he says trying to put them both at ease although considering my present location I would rather they not move to the balcony. Raoul and Christine can be proud that they raised such a kind intuitive child. He should be vilifying the silent woman in front of him yet here he is speaking as if they were well known to one another and on friendly terms rather than one tried to murder the other and did manage to kill a person both loved.

"If you would rather not speak that is fine. Mama said I talked enough for two people. She often told me that I reminded her of her best friend in the world, Meg Giry," he sighs heavily at the end of his sentence. This must be harder for him than it was for me when I first faced Meg after Christine's funeral.

Rustling is accompanied by Gustave placing one hand on either arm of his chair so he can scoot it closer to Meg. When he feels close enough he leans forward and takes Meg's hand in his. He looks at it for several long seconds before raising his tear stained cheeks to say brokenly, "Why Mademoiselle? Why? She loved you almost as much as she loved me and Papa. I don't understand. Make me understand. Mama said I should forgive you and for her I have tried. Really I have but sometimes I can't help wishing you were dead and not Mama. It isn't fair," he cries out tearfully.

I am almost ready to make myself known to them when I hear a low soft reply from Meg. "I don't know. I don't know. I wish I did but I don't know. It wasn't supposed to end like this. It wasn't supposed to be loaded. The gun, I should have checked but I thought Erik's days of keeping a loaded gun around were behind him. I only meant to frighten everyone. Make them aware how badly I was hurting. It wasn't supposed to happen. It wasn't supposed to happen," Meg croaks out just as wracking sobs begin to shake her body visibly.

Gustave sits still only for a second before his hand inches toward Meg's back. Awkwardly he pats at her shacking form. As if he knows exactly where I am he looks up pleadingly toward the bedroom door. Instinctively I jerk back before common sense tells me that Gustave can't possibly see or hear me as I haven't moved since I took up vigilance at the door. No one hears or sees me unless I want them to.

"Please don't cry. I didn't mean to make you cry. Shall I tell you something Mama told me? That night when I leaned down to give her a hug she whispered in my ear that I should forgive you no matter what happened later. I think…I guess she knew she wouldn't…that she was dying. Mama loved you Meg. I think she knew you didn't mean to…to do what you did. She didn't want any of us to blame you. We do but Papa says that is natural. I am trying...we all are trying to learn how to forgive you. I can't say I have completely but I am trying," he says as he continues to try to comfort her when he himself is in need of comforting. I can see in him a man Christine could be proud of.

"Mama always said hate was an ugly emotion best left to those with black hearts. I don't want to have a black heart. Mama said that at one time she thought Erik had a black heart. I don't think she did in the end."

Such agony rips through me to hear my own son speak in such terms about me. Worse still is to know it was Christine who told him such a horrible yet truthful thing about me. Every father wants to seem like a white knight in the eyes of their children not a crazed love starved lunatic with evil intentions toward everyone.

"Mademoiselle, if it wouldn't hurt you too badly, would you tell me about my mother when she was a child? Papa doesn't like to talk about her just yet, not too much anyway."

A heartbeat later I hear Meg say, "If I am to tell you about your mother you must call me Meg. Your mother…your mother liked to call me Little Dove. She said I always tried to be the peacemaker in the opera house so she called me Little Dove. I think that was her kind way to justify equating me with a bird. I was flighty back then. She was the Little Angel. Erik…her Angel of Music called her that for many years."

If she goes into the reason I pretended to be an angel and what I did during that time I swear feeling sympathy or not I will throttle her.

After a brief pause Meg begins again, "I will tell you what is relevant right now. Some things are too painful to tell. Some I think best left until you are older and more able to understand. You are but a boy even if life has given you a man's shoes to wear in life all too soon. I promise I will tell as much as I can."

Peeking out the crack I see Meg move settling herself deeper into the chair. If this is an indication of a long conversation I will bring a chair closer to the door. I am agile but even I am at an age where my bones and joints ache on occasion. Already my knees are complaining along with my aching back.

It feels good to sit down. I had come here prepared to strangle Meg if she did one thing to upset Gustave or made one untoward advance indicating her intention of harming him. It is a letdown that all my pent-up emotional readiness was for nothing. I feel drained. Of course there is still a chance Meg may do or say something threatening. I can't say I am pleased to have Meg telling Gustave about the relationship between me and his mother. She had better keep the tale to innocuous facts, things proper for a ten year old boy to know. She has said that is her intention and I must believe her.

After an hour of listening to Meg and Gustave ask and answer questions I relax when nothing seems out of the ordinary. I am more relieved than the situation warrants. Not only that Gustave is safe but that I do not have to test whether or not I could really harm Meg. Lately I have had my doubts but kept them in the background of my mind. If I didn't think about it that meant it didn't exist.

Several times Meg and Gustave's laughter mingled as something tickled them. I thought I knew Christine better than anyone but Meg knew her on a deeper level than even I did. She must have told Meg every secret her young heart guarded. Raoul and I had been the only exceptions. Christine told Meg about Raoul when she saw him that first day he came to the opera house as the new patron. Christine told Meg of her Angel of Music when my misdeeds began to escalate into real danger for everyone.

Meg kept to the basics. I came out looking less black of heart than I should. Gustave must have the impression I was some sort of savior to the child Christine had been. So many things were left out and others only glossed over with basic facts with no negative conclusions. I must relate to Raoul that I am grateful he has not told Gustave of all my misdeeds. Again I am faced with his honorable traits so markedly apposed to my own.

My attention is brought back to the two in the other room when I hear Gustave say, "Did you know Papa and I are returning to Paris? I want to go but I don't want to hurt Erik. Mama cared for him. Papa says she loved him. I don't understand that part of things. All I know is it hurts Papa when he speaks about them being together. Sometimes he sounds almost as if he hates Mama as much as he used to hate Erik. He won't tell me why. He always musses my hair and tells me not to worry about what grownups do or say. What is everyone keeping from me?"

I am beginning to suspect that Gustave has Bulldog tendencies. Why can he not be satisfied with what he does know. I do know why. It is the same with me. I must have every I dotted and every T crossed. Anything less drives me mad.

"Gustave, would it help to tell you that your father and Raoul haven't always been civil to one another and the reason for their antagonism? Your mother owned both of their hearts I suppose since the first time they each met her. She was like that, so easy to love. Don't misunderstand me she was not without flaws. It is just that we were all willing to overlook them because we loved her so deeply. Even I knew there were things she did that weren't fair or right but I dismissed them. It wasn't her fault," Meg quickly stated.

"I thought I could give you a glimpse into your mother's life and you would be happy. I see now it is to be expected you would wish to know more. Please don't ask me to tell you more than I have already. It isn't my story to tell. I will take all the blame for what happened and why not? It is by my hand Christine died. My insanity, insecurity, call it what you like but it leads to the same conclusion. My best friend, my sister, a beloved wife and mother is no longer with us. Hate me Gustave. Revile me. Nothing you do can be worse than what is going on inside my mind. I deserve no peace, no forgiveness for I cannot forgive myself," she finishes with a choked cry. Gustave is crying as well.

I too feel the cascade of tears running down my face. I want to go out and tell Meg that yes she perpetrated the actual action taking Christine's life but it is I who manipulated things that brought Christine back into my wretched clutches. There is blame aplenty to go around. If one person had done something different maybe another path would have been taken by everyone else.

It is time I retrieved Gustave. I am sure Raoul will be in for a session of pointed questions from his son. Coward that I am I will encourage the cabby to make haste to Raoul's. It shames me to be so willing to give up the few minutes I have left with my son just because I am afraid he will ask me to tell him things I am not willing to share with him just yet. How could I make him understand when I don't understand it all myself?

Just before I can leave I hear Gustave whisper, "Meg Mama loved you. She wanted me to forgive you so I shall. She saw the good in you so I will too."

"Oh Gustave you remind me so much of Christine at this moment. She always tried to find something good in everyone. I think that is why she could love Erik when no one else could. I will try to earn your kindness and Christine's faith in me. I give my solemn vow. You have freed me Gustave now I must free myself from my own prison."

"I know Meg, I know," he says just before Meg embraces him. For a moment he stiffens then relaxes to encircle her with his small arms. He may have made peace with Meg but I think he has much he needs to accomplish before he can feel totally at peace with his world.

My next meeting with Meg I will postpone until I have a better control over my emotions. One wrong word could bring an end to her life and my hard won sanity.

**A/N: It is cold wth takl of flurries. I am alone, cold and miserable. Erik always gives me a shot in the arm. **


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Finding a Way to Live

Two weeks have past since I saw Raoul and Gustave off at the harbor. My whole being cried out for me to steel away on that ship. Children forget so quickly. Will I only be a faded memory to Gustave by the time they return? My darker side tells me he won't remember me at all. We had such a short time to get to know one another. Our relationship didn't even have time to solidify or be put into a proper compartment. I am simply Erik to him, a friend of his mother and a man his father can hardly stand to be in the same room with.

After dragging myself home I then shut myself away to lick my wounds. The first few days liquor dulled my pain. The temptation to find another form to dull my senses had me pacing the floor at night when I seem to feel my loneliness the most. I filled my days with selling off all my assets. I want nothing remaining of my second life. Now I will create a third. This time I will be Erik Garnier. I had decided on that name earlier and as no other presented itself it has stuck. I am Erik Garnier former Opera Ghost, once infamous Phantom and just recently Mister Y proprietor of oddities and unusual exhibitions as well as entrepreneur and musical connoisseur. A bit of all of them remain with me combining to make up my new identity.

Marie has sent several messages with each one sounding more urgent. I cannot see Meg just yet. I know I must but not yet. A couple more days won't make that much of a difference. After all, what am I to her but the man who rejected her, used and abused her? She should be thankful I have left her in peace. I dare not let my kinder emotions rule me. Due to our past and its tragic ending I must maintain a distance from Meg while affording her as much stability as I can.

Letting another two weeks pass I can no longer justify putting off going to see Meg. This is the day after the last letter and I find myself in a cab headed toward Meg's. What I will say to her I haven't worked out just yet. She spoke so freely with Gustave that I suppose she will now communicate with me. That is good because I came so close to shaking her until her brains fell out the last few times I visited. Her continued silence drove me to near violence. I kept that emotion under a tight rein. Even Marie could not read my frustration in my face or words. Living underneath an opera house with preening actors paid off in that I am a consummate actor when I need to be.

Gustave appeared to accept Meg's company easier than I thought he might. He is an elevan year old boy grieving for his mother yet he has compassion for the person responsible for taking his mother from him. He did not inherit that forgiving nature from me. I suspect it is from Christine and even in a small way from Raoul that has made Gustave into the boy he is.

Meg has my compassion to a degree but still I harbor resentment that she is here and Christine is not. Accepting that we all played a part in this tragedy makes it easier to give Meg care, at least financial care. Whether or not we can build anything more will be determined as time passes if I do not cut her out of my life entirely. For once in my life I will put another's wellbeing ahead of my own. By doing this I feel I will make amends for my own less than stellar actions. It is a small concession and while it doesn't tax me financially it will cost me a piece of my pride. Tossing money around is easier than becoming emotionally involved.

Restlessness has me pounding with my cane for the cabbie to stop. Walking may give me a clearer head and sooth my nervous tension. Today as I pass the flower shop I do not slow my steps. Halfway down the block I turn around so I may purchase a dozen damn flowers for Meg. I resent that I feel I must do this. This weakness must be brought under control, whatever the cause. Whatever it takes to bring Meg back to complete health I must do it and do it quickly. I don't like the things I am thinking nor do I like what I am feeling. Generosity toward someone less fortunate and ill of mind is one thing but my emotions are headed down a path unfamiliar to me where Meg is concerned. I will not betray Christine by letting another woman beguile me with her dependency on me or my own sense of duty toward her welfare. Madame Giry has much to answer for and damned if I am not tempted to hunt her down as I wanted to when first she left us.

My knock is quickly answered by Marie. Often I wonder if she stands at the peephole waiting for my arrival as she almost opens the door before I knock.

"Oh Erik you are in for a treat today. Shame on you for staying away so long. I feared Meg might have a relapse she got so melancholy again. When I told her you would be coming by today she perked right up," she concluded with a beaming smile.

How could she tell if Meg was melancholy or not or on the verge of relapse? The only time I heard Meg speak had been from behind a door when she spoke to Gustave. She hadn't spoken to me since…well since everything went wrong.

"Erik." I heard a half gasp half sob from my right. I turned toward the sound. Meg sat not in her usual chair but on the settee. Marie had taken extra care with Meg's toilet today. Instead of two braids hanging over her shoulders now she had golden ropes of twisted hair wound around the crown of her head. Small white daisies were placed randomly within the ropes of hair. Light blue cloth from the skirt spread out over the settee. Meg's bare shoulders and neck were displayed becomingly and much to my chagrin very attractive also. Perky little sleeves were meant to give the attire the appearance of respectability while drawing the eye of everyone toward the wearer's charms. Whether I wish it or not my body responds as any normal man would. It doesn't mean anything I silently reassure myself. It is only a hormonal response easily overcome and ignored. If I have to bite my lip until it bleeds I will conquer this physical reaction toward Meg.

Hesitantly I approach Meg and lift her hand. Kissing her hand is not something I have done before but now it feels appropriate. Offering her my hand I wait for Meg to place her hand in mine. When she does so gingerly it does prick at my conscience that she feels unsure and perhaps afraid in my presence. Well damn it she should be afraid. Did she not permanently remove the most important person in my life from ever being with me? Instead of giving my intended salutation I merely take her hand and give a token nod of my head. It isn't even a proper bow. I only bend slightly at the waist. An insult to anyone used to such gestures and their meaning as Meg is. Dropping her hand I turn away but not before I take notice of the hurt that dulls the sparkle in her eye. Coldly I dismiss any sentimentality that briefly makes itself known to me. She deserves far worse for her heinous crime. When I turn away it is then I see that Marie has already left the two of us alone. Now that Meg is showing signs of coming back to sanity I would rather have a third party present during my visits. Not that I am afraid of what may or may not happen. It is only for the sake of propriety. That train has left the station long ago where Meg and I are concerned but still I will use it if I feel myself slipping into things better off ignored.

Taking the chair directly opposite Meg I settle in before attempting to speak. I use this opportunity to study her more thoroughly. The last two weeks have been kind to Meg. The color has returned to her cheeks. Even with the sparkle gone from her eyes there is still a look of returning vitality about her. She has painted her lips not the customary red from her past but a more subtle shade of pink. No one looking at her would equate her to the same woman who appeared in the risqué shows that were performed on stage at my theatre and on the beach to titillate eager vacationers and locals. Only recently had I learned they were to draw my notice as well.

"I am glad to see you are improving Meg. Please let Marie know if you need anything. Don't' worry about finances at the moment. Everything is being taken care of. Once you feel up to handling things on your own we will discuss what it is you will need to sustain your present lifestyle," I say in a businesslike tone.

"My support. That is what concerns you? No questions about why I did what I did or how I felt about everything? No demands for an explanation? I would have thought you'd have strangled me at the first opportunity. Indeed I expected not to open my eyes again after Mother put me to bed that night. Feeling as I did I would have welcomed death and it would have been right if I had died at your hands," she pauses to see if I will address her statement. For a man of considerable verbal skills at the moment I am struck dumb.

"Money, this is what you think is the most important thing that needs to be settled between us?" she says with a catch in her voice. Tears are not far away. If one tear falls so help me I will leave her to it. I won't be persuaded again by a woman's strongest weapon against a man.

As if she reads my mind Meg wipes at her eyes with a dainty handkerchief. Lowering her hand to her lap she begins to tear at the piece of cloth with the fingers of both hands. When the rending sound of cloth is heard Meg stills all movement. Looking up fearfully she awaits my reaction. If tears will have me leaving what will such violent behavior bring about is clearly crossing her mind? I can read the question on her face. It is odd how well we know what the other is thinking without any verbal communication. Christine and I never had that closeness. Closeness? What the hell am I thinking? We have no closeness. It is more a case of having been associated for so long out of necessity. Ten years is a long time to know a person. I feel better using this reasoning to quiet my guilt.

As she continues on my calm is quickly ruffled, "I have no need for your money Erik. Unknown to Mother or you I invested in the market, quite profitably I might add. I am more than a harlot to entertain the crowds or lie on my back to influence those men you needed to get what you wanted. I was your whore Erik. I degraded myself daily to further your plans. After the first dozen or so it occurred to me why not take a little profit for myself? Hoping to win even the slightest notice from you I believe in the back of my mind it was hopeless yet I continued on," she says as her shoulders straighten and she raises her head to look at me defiantly.

"No, I have no need for your support, concern for my welfare, or anything else. You held me at arms length for ten long years yet I did not see it, wouldn't let myself see it. If I… if I had such strong feelings for you eventually you would open your eyes and see me is what kept me from staying in bed and pulling the covers over my head or simply ending it all. In hindsight that would have been the better choice."

Holding up her hand she silences me when I would have interrupted. "Don't worry Erik. Any childish fantasies I had are now dead just as Christine is dead. You never would have loved me. It was always Christine. I must learn to live with what I have done. Mother…Mother couldn't face what I did or accept her part in it. She left before I could ask her to forgive me for taking the life of a daughter she loved and having to look me in the eye without being able to say the words I need to hear. I doubt I shall see Mother again. That is another penalty for my actions. There will be many more to come. Gustave has forgiven me or so he says. Once he realizes all that he will miss by not having Christine in his life every day I am sure he will come to hate me. On birthdays, holidays or any number of firsts in his life that she will not be present for he will miss her and remember that I am the one who took her life. His hatred I can bear. Yours…yours I…"

She chokes on a sob but manages to press a hand to her lips before another can escape. Swallowing she raises her head to look at me and says, "Christine and Gustave are the only ones I need ask pardon. Gustave gave his to me although still in mourning he may retract that. Christine…Christine had forgiveness in her face even as the gun fired and the bullet lodged in her flesh. Raoul…well Raoul is not as important to me as others are. I offer him my sincerest apologies and offer myself up to any punishment he wishes to cast upon me. I have written a letter which should arrive in France shortly after he and Gustave do. I won't ask of you any forgiveness or reprieve from punishment. I know what you are capable of if anyone does. I won't try to stop anything you think is just. Do what you will Erik. I await your judgment."

She bows her head as if expecting a blow from me. Two emotions are at war within me. My need for revenge and some softer emotion I am trying to ignore. My darker emotions are easier to deal with than anything tender. Violence comes easier to me than a caressing touch except where Gustave is concerned and Christine until the day she left my life and even with her my hands rarely made contact with her skin. I felt much too vile in those days. Even when she came back into my life I dared not touch her too often and then only briefly.

"You…you ask pardon from everyone yet you exclude me as if I did not count in Christine's life. I, who loved her above even my own life, you look upon as less than worthy of the smallest consideration. Is it your opinion that I, as a lowly disfigured ghost and phantom could not possibly attract someone as sweet and lovely as Christine or that I have no feelings, no tender emotions? The proof of her affection, her love for me is in the son she bore me. My son, mine. It was not the perfection of Raoul who first took her maidenhead. She came to me. Offered herself to me. It was only my own insecurities that drove me from her that last night we spent in the throws of passion," I say with heaving chest. I pause only long enough to catch my breath. Now I will let her know exactly how I feel about her. She will know how low she is in my eyes.

"You professed to love me without any encouragement from me. What made you think I would cast a glance at you when Christine always held my heart? You were nothing, are nothing. A whore displaying her wares is what you are. Look at you. Even now you flaunt yourself in hopes of capturing my admiration. It is an impossible quest. Never could you take Christine's place. You are too far beneath her. A disease ridden whore from the streets would fare better in comparison."

I fling my last arrow knowing it will hit home. "Even your own mother wanted to be as far from you as possible. If a mother rejects you how can you expect anyone else to want you? I certainly don't. You are disgusting and vile. If even I will not take what you so boldly offer imagine what the men of society will think of you?"

Complete and utter quiet fills the room. I expected shouting, protests, crying, a blow to my head, anything but silence. There are no sobs, sniffles, not anything audible. I can feel and hear the rhythm of my beating heart thrumming in my veins and filling my ears with a roaring sound. It begins to slow and lesson into a regular constant beat. My anger is dissipating. Calm is returning. Shame washes over me. I won't retract anything I said but not all of it is the absolute truth. It is better I feel anger than any softening toward Meg. Any further association between us is not possible. Christine's ghost will always be there between us. A clean break is best.

"If it is your wish never to see me then so be it. I will make no further demands on your time. You need not concern yourself with my welfare anymore. From now on Marie is in my employ. I will naturally reimburse you for every expense incurred on my behalf and that of my mother. Now I am feeling tired, would you be so kind as to leave? I won't get up to see you out. I know you won't think any the less of me. Good-bye Erik. Prosper and be happy," is her last words to me. Turning her head away she looks out the balcony doors at the view beyond. Her silhouette is the memory I shall take with me but only will it be allowed to come in my dreams. Meg Giry will be an unpleasant part of a fading past life. Only death can remove her any further from my reality.

I want to say something but what? Is this not what I wanted, what I set out to accomplish? Leaving before I can do anything counterproductive I shut the door behind me knowing this is the last time I shall see Meg Giry, Little Meg and Christine's Little Dove. There is a hollow place in my heart next to the place where Christine's memory is kept.

**A/N: This brought tears to my eyes but then I'm in an emotional state at the moment. I wanted it to be tragically poignant. Clearing the air in this way just may lead to something new. **


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

**Life Lived Alone**

Coming to the country has done me no good other than to make it a longer journey to visit Gustave and if I still had any interest in Meg, which I do not, it would be further from her also. I am neglecting my music and finacial matters. Worse still is that I have yet to visit my own son and Gustave and Raoul returned a month ago. They asked me to come see them but my mood was not the best and so I let my foul temper spill over into my reply. I find myself growling out curses even when I am by myself. Perhaps deep in my heart I know what ails me but I am too stubborn to rectify the situation.

A second letter from Raoul did not mention any visitation with Gustave either at his home or my own. He did make a cordial enquiry about Meg that touched on the raw spot festering around the middle of my chest. He did not ask again. Another long week went by and I could not punish myself any longer. I had to see my son. Exile would not allow me to get to know him or him to know me.

Raoul did not seem surprised to see me, damn him and his smug know-it-all smile. The first question out of his mouth nearly got his head bashed in. _**"Have you seen Mademoiselle Giry recently?" **_He may as well have waved a red cape in front of a raging bull. I managed to control myself as proved by Monsiuer de Chagny's continued breathing. My murderous glare had something to do with his change of subject. Raoul is still wary of me. I like that.

Gustave is curious as to what happened to Meg but not enough to pester me with questions or ask his father to take him for a visit. I would have had to put my foot down if he had. Meg is a subject all three of us tip toe around. Three months and still I have moments of regret. Today's visit to my accountant will be a test of my willpower. That damn flower shop where I bought Meg's bouquets happens to be on the street my accountant has an office. Sometimes I want to demand he move. I can't without appearing to be unreasonable or insane. Setting fire to the building has crossed my mind. I even went so far as to ride to town on horseback of all things just to have a look around. There are too many people renting apartments and too many buildings close to Thomas Brown's office. Restraint in this matter proves I am still progressing in my battle against my old demons. I would burn the city down if I had a reason to do so but not if it would cause anyone physical injury of a permanent kind. To shore up my decision against causing mayham seeing the owner closing shop accompanied by two small children and a woman I assumed to be his wife curtailed any idea I had in the direction of removing the premises from the block. So the business will be a thorn in my side until I regain my former discipline where I close off everything I don't wish to hear or see. It is up to me to block out those unwanted emotions developing in me for Meg. I don't care how innocuous they are they have no place inside my head or heart. I pledged my love and loyalty to Christine and by God I will hold true to my promise for once in my life. What sort of man would I be if I let myself fall in love with the murderer of my beloved? I am not certain if what I am feeling is love. Perhaps it is an overblown sense of responsibility.

Raoul has let his opinion on the matter be subtly known. Clearly he blames me, as he should, for setting in motion events that took his wife and Gustave's mother from their lives. I hate anyone pointing a finger at me placing blame for something I may or may not have done. More often than not I am guilty of the accusation. As hard as I try I cannot exonerate myself from the part I played in Christine's death. In the end everything comes down to me. I bought the gun once I began negotiating for Christine to come. If not for my wounded pride and unwillingness to let go Christine and Raoul may have worked out their differences. If I had not concocted that absurd bet Christine would have sung my song on stage then returned to France with her husband and son instead of being buried in a country where she has few friends. The only real family she has is Raoul and Gustave. Meg and Madame were her adopted family . A lot of good those two were to her.

So many times Meg's words to Gustave haunt my dreams. It cannot be disputed that the gun Meg used belonged to me. I had no reason to keep it loaded and should have made certain it was safe when Gustave came to my home. What if he had gotten it and accidentally shot himself or horrors of horrors, shot his mother or father? Imagining what Meg feels it would be a hundred times worse for Gustave.

I can' say for certain if I planned to use it on Raoul if my plot to win Christine had failed or not. Yes, I have come a long way from the man I used to be but a part of him remains. If I am not able to say with one hundred percent certainty I would not have used that gun on Raoul why do I find it so hard to believe Meg did not realize the gun had been loaded by me? It should have been unloaded. Several times I reassured both Meg and her mother I would not leave it lying about loaded. It frightened them. Sometimes I think they feared I would use it to harm myself after one of my very vivid dreams about Christine and hearing her voice. Those nights left me close to ending it all.

Raoul has kept his promise not to keep Gustave from me. In fact the three of us enjoy many companionable hours horseback riding, which I enjoy but don't do often enough as I avail myself of a carriage from my own livery and when in town hire a cab or walk if the weather permits.

This small plantation was neglected by the previous aging owner. Money and long hard hours of work have put it to rights. A lot of it I did with my own two hands. Creating a thing of beauty is instilled in my makeup. One or both of my parents must have been artistic. Sometimes genius comes at the price of madness. For a time I had equal amounts of both. Now I work hard to keep my mind busy with positive endeavors.

Raoul, Gustave and I plan to work on the stables. I have a fine Arabian for my own pleasure and took Gustave to a horse auction to purchase an appropriate horse for him. Being of an age he thinks himself to be a man my suggestion of a pony he declined without any hesitation. He wanted a man size horse for a boy believing himself manly. Both Raoul and I vetted the animals before the auction began and agreed on our choice for Gustave. The trick had been to get him to believe he chose that particular horse without any interference from his fathers. Two fathers, that has a strange sound to it. I suppose now is as good as any to relinquish my fatherly rights if indeed I ever had any. From now on I will be as an uncle. In fact I shall suggest that to Raoul and seek his approval. Lord how it galls me to need permission from him to do anything for my son. Not my legal progeny but my son by blood. Uncle Erik has a nice ring to it but not as wonderful as father or papa I imagine. At least this title is a far cry from any of my previous identities.

If things were different I would shout to the world I had a son. Everything I have would be his. As it is I will leave all my possessions to him upon my death. I shall have no other heirs. My self-doubt does not lead me to believe another woman will come along who can stomach my face. Christine had to adjust to the way I look. Even she turned away from me when she removed my mask for the first time. Once she gave herself over to my voice my face no longer mattered had I only but known that. Love had placed a mask over my disfigurement shielding all the ugliness my real mask hides from everyone.

My household is quiet. I only employ a cook who I rarely see and Howard, a sort of Jack of all trades. Any errands I do not wish to carry out are handed over to Howard. Discretion is of the utmost importance to me and both my employees understand and comply with that requirement.

A loud cacophony of noise comes from my front yard bringing me out of my peaceful contemplation. Why I thought peacocks would add a sense of exotica to my home now seems like a very poorly thought out idea. Every bit of movement causes those birds to scream hideously or so it seems to my musical ear. They are mean spirited birds. Gustave tried to approach one and ended up being chased around the yard. First one then the whole party of peafowl gave chase that only ended when Gustave ran into the house. I want no unpleasant encounters so I hurry out to meet the buggy Raoul is driving.

Sure enough I see several male peacocks and a couple of peahens running toward the buggy. I have come to think those birds are better than any watchdog. Now if only I could equip them with sharp teeth. Not so they would be more effective when chasing Gustave but for other unwanted visitors.

Gustave steps down onto the bricked drive and begins to flap his arms about like someone half-witted. I fear he has inherited my infirm mind after all. Raoul's laughter eases my worry on that score. If he can laugh everything must be alright.

"Might I ask what in the world you are doing Gustave?" I enquire half of me wanting to join in Raoul's merriment.

"Papa said if I wave my arms about the males might think I am an over large peacock and leave me alone," he says with a straight face. Obviously he believes what Raoul has told him. To my consternation the birds halt their forward movement and suddenly turn tail to head back out to the sprawling front pasture where several horses are grazing.

Pointing to the retreating birds I say with humor, "Well it seems to be working."

"I had no idea it would actually work. I only wanted to take Gustave's mind off being afraid. I suppose that worked as well," in a voice filled with male satisfaction having conquered a problem and impressed his son. Raoul can enjoy his moment of closeness with Gustave for I have a plan that will bring my son and I closer together.

"We had better go in cook hates her meals to go cold. She's likely to feed me pig slop tonight if I spoil what she has worked so hard to present for our palate," I sweep my hand toward the door and follow them as they enter my home.

Raoul finds it hard still to picture me in such luxurious surroundings and with so many windows going from floor to ceiling almost every room is filled with sunlight. I may have overdone the windows but I crave light and space without tons of earth and rock surrounding me. After being denied such everyday common gifts from God it is any wonder my home is spacious and filled with the suns rays during the day and lighted chandeliers everywhere at night.

Wanting a moment alone with Raoul I send Gustave down the hall to the downstairs lavatory to wash his hands instructing him that his father and I will be waiting at the table for him. Sitting in my cheery dining room I address my most urgent concern hesitantly, "Raoul, Gustave is troubled with how he should address me. I believe I have a solution that will satisfy everyone," I say knowing I am not at all satisfied.

"I want some connection between us to be recognized so I wish to be his Uncle Erik. You retain your place as his only father and I am formally accepted as a blood relative without announcing to the world the true connection between myself and Gustave. Does this meet with your approval?" If he does not agree then perhaps I shall not regret letting out my former personality that is kept behind a door waiting to be unleashed at the slightest provocation. It is duly noted by me that I am aware of just how thinly my control over that part of me truly is. Or maybe I am not as vigilante when it comes to Raoul. I may see that his part in my downfall may have been justified maybe even noble but it still stings my pride.

Raoul turns his coffee cup around as he stares at the cup. One might think it had turned into a crystal ball. I wonder if he is trying to see what will come of letting me into their lives in this way. He must have reached a decision for the cup is abandoned so he can look at me directly to say, "Erik I have struggled with all that has happened in the past and what later became known to me. I know you will understand if I harbor deep anger toward you for your part in what happened." He pauses but I know he is not finished getting all he has to say out into the open.

"I will keep this short as I don't want Gustave to hear anything detrimental about his mother. All our married life I had a doubt as to Gustave's being my son. In order to keep Christine in my life I buried those doubts. For not letting her go to the man she truly loved I claim my part in everything that happened. Make no mistake I will fight anyone who I perceive to be a danger to my son, my son Erik. In every way he is my son. Having said that I can understand how you must feel. I would feel the same. A son is special to a man. We are ingrained with a need to have our bloodlines carried on through our sons. Daughters can be our little princesses but our sons are our legacy. What I am getting at is if Gustave feels comfortable calling you his uncle I shall not interfere. Keep in mind that if for one moment you seem to…to be reverting I shall not hesitate to remove him from your life permanently," he ends his speech with a warning I will heed.

I don't acknowledge what he has said but he knows I understand and believe every word. I would do no less if our roles were reversed. Gustave's safety and peace of mind are paramount.

To lighten the mood Raoul deadpans, "I always wanted a brother, welcome to the family Erik."

"So Uncle Erik it is." Simply put and to the point. Better than tossing the gravy bowl in his face. Slowly I pus the tempting missile out of reach. Just in time as Gustave returns to join us. Our meal commences and we delve into the meal like three hungry farm workers instead of proper gentlemen at Gustave's instigation. We share this companionable moment. Even Raoul loosens up enough so that he can cast aside his manners and shovel in food in a disgraceful manner yet doesn't feel out of place with all three of us joining in. I am a part of something not an outcast.

The meal set the tone for the rest of the day. By sundown we were all dreadfully dirty, tired and yet content to be so. This day must go down as one of my most pleasant in a lifetime with so few truly happy days recorded in my mind. This one I will replay many times when I am separated from Gustave. It will suffice until he can be with me again. A truce has been declared between Raoul and I. We are aligned in our mission to raise Gustave to be the best man he can be. I will let Raoul tend to his morals and I will take care of his artistic training. We are a family, of sorts.

**A/N: Got some quick reviews so thought I'd post another chapter. **


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: I wanted this chapter to have a little levity as well as some of Erik's capricious and volital nature. After all he is to some degree the infamous Phantom. **

**Chapter Eleven**

**The Angel's Ire**

Damn them! Damn them all to hell. How dare they go behind my back settling my life for me as if I am incompetent. True, I did decline most forcefully any offers of a proper nurse but this, this is…is….well it is unforgivable. I may be a temporary invalid but still I am capable of running my own life and making sound decisions. I forcefully hold back a sneeze. Even if I have to squeeze my nose shut I will not give them the satisfaction of saying "I told you so".

Curse my unusual weakness. To reach the age of forty-five and catch a chill which has weakened me and left me going in and out of deep restless sleep during bouts of rising fever is the final straw in my humiliation. Raoul and Gustave have both seen me in my sickbed weaker than a kitten. It shames me even though Raoul reassures me that at some point in their life every human being is laid low by one illness or another. Well, not me. I never got sick in all the years I lived below the opera house in those cold damp tunnels nor did I succumb to anything in the last ten years until a week ago.

Gustave and I had gone riding. Raoul advised me that a storm was brewing and so we should stay close to home. Naturally I could not heed his warning. The downpour began about halfway back to the house. Raoul had made Gustave promise to keep his slicker on no matter what I said. Damn him. Not that I want Gustave to feel what I am feeling but it galls me that Raoul was right in this and I let my own stubbornness lead me to this torture. I feel horrible and now this new bit of treachery has been revealed to me. Raoul has gone behind my back and asked Meg to come and nurse me back to health. As if that woman knows anything about nursing anyone. What possessed Raoul to even think Meg would come take care of me? Is he not concerned she might take it into her head to kill me while unconscious? Raoul I fear has taken leave of his senses. He calls upon the woman responsible for his own wife's death to nurse back to health his…his what? Sworn enemy, former attempted murderer and kidnapper of ingénues? I see his plan. He hopes to be rid of me so he may have Gustave all to himself. I won't allow it. I'll…I'll…I am not clear just yet what action I will take. Perhaps that is something to be decided once my head stops this infernal pounding.

Even my servants have deserted me in my hour of need, not literally but figuratively as cook will not step one foot in my room after I threw a bowl of soup at her because she refused to hand me my trousers. Wilting lily that she is I haven't seen her since that incident. Try as I might I can't manage to leave the bed. Actually I think I might land on the floor if I did but I won't ever confess such a thing. Howard does not appear in my room until he knows I am deep in an exhausted sleep. It is at these times he comes in and does all that is necessary to keep me somewhat clean and presentable. I am malleable when feverish and tired from howling my lungs out all day as I hurl curses and threats at no one in particular. Presently I am not discriminating. I hate everyone except for Gustave and he is too small to be of much use to me other than for company. Everything small enough for me to use as a missal has already been hurled and broken or taken away by Howard, the bastard. Perhaps I should not have alienated him so soon in the game by those few near misses that first day.

Raoul defends his actions by placing the blame on Gustave, the coward. He knows I won't harm Gustave. Him on the other hand I might find a Punjamb with his name on it. Glancing in the direction of my lower dresser drawer I am sure of it.

What madness possessed Raoul to interfere in my life and in a way he knew I would object to? Meg should be the last person either Gustave or Raoul want anything to do with yet they went out of their way to approach her with this idiotic suggestion that she come and be my nurse.

It is true Meg often got called to aid the opera house doctor during times when he had several patients at the same time. Madame also did service in the infirmary. Christine could not stand to be around illness. I suppose that steamed from having to watch her father slowly die at such a young age. It is my opinion this plan to have Meg come here is a perverse form of revenge on Raoul's part. He jumped at the chance to force me to face Meg and in my own home too. Just because he has come to terms with her does not mean I want to mire myself down with all that emotional baggage again. I cut her out of my life and felt better for it. I imagine she did too. Like as not she will come here, deliver a few choice words, then tell me to go to the devil. I could tell her I doubt the devil would have me.

Demanding my trousers be brought to me is useless. Why did I decide to climb into bed without at least putting on my pajama bottoms? The fever that started out only a degree or two higher than normal ended up being four or five degrees above normal by nightfall. The cough and pains in my chest developed over the next few days until now I look to be at deaths door and feel even worse.

If I had a normal face I would not hesitate to have a doctor look at me. Being what I am I do not want anyone poking and prodding at me. I am not a sideshow curiosity anymore. I'll not be put under a microscope to be studied by anyone.

My nerves are not the best either. I can't seem to settle thus ending up with my sheets and blankets in a hopeless knot around me. Movement is very minimal. If my current predicament wouldn't point out just how badly I do need a caretaker I'd ring down for Howard. If I kept ringing sooner or later his conscience would have him coming up to make sure I hadn't done something stupid such as try to get out of bed to use the facilities on my own. That mistake I will not repeat in a hurry. I don't care for anyone seeing my disfigurement but I have discovered I am shy about anyone seeing me unclothed as well, no matter what the reason may be.

Frustration and boredom are not pleasant at the best of times but when one is incapacitated and tied to a bed they are worse. Just when I come to the conclusion my house is deserted I hear the front doorbell chime. Howard's voice is a deep baritone and I clearly make out his voice among two others, both women. One is Cook and the other is Meg if I am not mistaken.

Panic sets in causing me to thrash about trying to sit up. I am too weak and all the thrashing did not help any. Now my blankets are wrapped around my middle providing very little cover to parts of me I'd rather not be on display. Why did I have to be so stubborn and refuse to allow anyone to help me at least pull on the bottoms to my nightwear? It appears I have cut off my nose to spite my face. I won't be humiliated in this fashion. If I have to use my last breath I will pull at least the sheet up to my shoulders. By the grace of God I manage to accomplish that feat just as there is a knock on the door. Howard is not one to stand on ceremony at the best of times so he enters my room before I can open my mouth to bid him entrance. There are times when I have the notion that I work for Howard instead of the other way around.

"Ah Master Erik you are awake. Good, good. Someone has come to visit. Miss Meg is here to check on your health," Howard says as he comes to my bedside to help me sit up. He places another pillow behind my back and gives me a stern look as he whispers for my ears alone, "Behave yourself. The young miss is not yet recovered from her recent ordeal."

Well damn it neither am I yet I manage to carry on through life and without any kind words or encouragement from him. Should he not show more sympathy toward me? I did not pull the trigger of the gun that killed Christine. Howard knows all about my illustrious past in Paris and most of what took place this last month. Divulging my secrets did not come easy but in order to win his loyalty I had to lay out everything before him so he could decide if coming to work for me was something he could do. Once committed to me I would not let him leave my employ easily. Cook's contract is the same. She is unaware just what kind of man she works for but she has an idea. Dimwittedness is not part of her makeup. Sharp as a tack best describes her.

I give Howard a disdainful look in return but he is oblivious or at least pretends to be. No matter what I do I cannot frighten him. The closest I came is when he refused to return to my room while I was awake and able to hurl insults and throw objects at him. I am beginning to realize he was not so much afraid of me as he was tired of my childish behavior. Letting me simmer in my own miserable juices proved to be a suitable punishment.

Meg comes forward and if I did not know better I would believe her to be a shy maiden. Her cheeks are tinged with pink that did not come from any rouge or tinted powder. In fact the only unnatural color I can detect is on her lips. My focus is captured by the slight quirk of said lips. Did she always have that dimple in her left cheek? I can't say as I ever noticed if she did. Did I really pay so little attention to her?

Shyly she sits on the edge of my bed causing disturbances within me I do not care to feel. Glaring at Howard I censure him for not bringing a chair to my bedside or offering Meg one near the fireplace on the other side of the room. Better still he could have left her to wait downstairs then came up to help me dress so I could receive her in my parlor. Being in no condition to climb out of bed let alone down several flights of stairs is beside the point.

A loud click alerted me that Howard left the room, the coward. I have half a notion to fire him. The day it is a complete idea I shall hand him his walking papers. Meg is fiddling with the strings on her bag. Me, I keep my eyes on her fiddling fingers. What can I say to her? We parted on angry terms. Still I am unable to give her complete pardon for what she did yet I feel a stirring within me for her. I console myself that it is only pity for someone who had lost their sanity as I did years ago.

"Well you won't be much good to me if all you are going to do is take up space in my bed." No sooner did the words leave my mouth than I realized they could be taken two different ways. Meg's blossoming cheeks let me know she was aware of my misspoken words. For a woman who had worked her way through a long line of men Meg portrayed the innocent quite convincingly. I know of her past so I am not fooled. My own face is burning but it is from my fever, partially.

Meg jumps up from my bed then steps backward awkwardly nearly falling on her backside. So much for her dancer's gracefulness. My chuckle escapes me before I can stop it. Lifting her chin her blue eyes have caught fire in response to my enjoyment at her expense. Hands planting firmly on her hips Meg tosses me a challenge, "Well what would you have me do?" I don't care for the smile twitching at her lips other than it causes an identical dimple to appear on the other side of her lips. Now she has a twin set.

"So, oh great one, what should I do? Perhaps we should see about getting you into some trousers or pajamas. What's your pleasure," she asks cheekily. I don't care for this side of her at all. Where did the woman plagued by sorrow and guilt go?

She steps closer and my hands grab at the blanket edge desperately. Damn her. She will pay for this. I will wipe that wicked smile of satisfaction clean off her face. She'll be sniveling by the time I am done with her. My head begins to spin with my sudden movement to sit up on my own and toss my legs to the side. Lurching in my stomach warns me that I am about to disgrace myself. Meg must have read the signs on my face for she quickly reaches down beside the bed to retrieve the trash receptacle.

A soft hand at the nap of neck feels soothing but I want to brush it aside. I can't even do that I am so weak. Her hand moves from my neck to my back where she rubs from shoulder to shoulder then down the center. It does help calm the churning or maybe it is that my mind is concentrated on something else, somewhere else, somewhere much lower. I am a scurrilous scoundrel. Nearly at deaths door and my body is ready to betray me. I hate not being able to control that odious free spirited part of me that acts with little thought to any consequences. If I did not hope to someday enjoy what it was created for I'd lob it off or become an eunuch.

Shame for betraying Christine's memory should have riddled me by now but oddly I feel only a slight twinge. Meg bending nearer to fill my nostrils with her sweet seductive scent is little inducement to calm the sphincter now hard and proud with want just underneath the sheet. Lust starts to cloud my already fever fogged brain. In a second I shall most likely give into the womanly habit of fainting. If I do the next time I see Little Meg Giry will be the last regardless of any responsibilities I might have toward her.

Shoving at her middle with the flat of my hand I send her away from me but not as far as I would like. Flopping down inelegantly onto my back as weakness prohibits me sitting up on my own I growl dangerously for one in my condition, "Touch me again and you shall not like what happens. I do not need you or anyone else. I am perfectly able to fend for myself. Go back to the hotel. Did you not tell me you had sufficient funds to support yourself yet here you are at the first opportunity offering…just what are you offering Meg? What price do you put on your services?" I leave no room for misinterpretation of my meaning.

Only a sharp intake of breath belies her calm exterior. She is a better actress than everyone gave her credit for. Wanting to humiliate her into leaving me I continue on in the same vein, "I am sorry I cannot oblige at the moment. Perhaps if you come later I may be recovered enough to make use of your services." Again I stress my words leaving no doubt what my true meaning is.

Without a word Meg turns to leave. She does not slam the door angrily or sniffle. The door opens quietly and closes behind her just as quietly. I should feel triumphant. I do feel victorious. "Good riddance," I shout for her benefit. Even to me the words sound hollow and flat. Once again I have gotten my way so why do I feel so deserted and alone?


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: This chapter is dedicated to all my loyal reviewers. You know who you are. I appreciate each and every one even if I don't say it often enough. Welcome to my newest reviewer 1122. **

**Chapter Twelve**

**Angel of Mercy**

Regret hit me as soon as I heard that final click. This roller coaster of emotions I am experiencing is unfamiliar yet at the same time feels like what I first felt for…No! I refuse to travel any further down that thought path. One woman and one alone should be by my side and she is cold and dead with dirt encasing her coffin. She was my one love, my one chance for happiness. I deserve nothing more than what I have and much of that I do not deserve. Being left to my own devices is no better than I deserve. Deserve? What I deserve? My illness is causing me to go soft. What I deserve is what I can take from this world. What I deserve is anything my heart desires and it does not desire to have the murderess of my beloved anywhere near me. There, that is settled.

If Howard doesn't come up soon to give me sustenance and some clothing I swear by all that is holy I will fire him. Meg's visit left me feeling off kilter. Self-pity rises to the surface then anger follows closely behind. Unreasonable or not I feel dislike for everyone building inside of me. Even Gustave earns his share. After all he left me quite happily as I recall. While I wanted to shout and cry buckets of tears he waved from the side of the ship at me.

Since he has been home it has been no better. With a happy smile on his face he leaves me to what may well become my deathbed for all anyone knows. Heartless beasts every last one. Why in my hour of need did I expect some sympathy, some small measure of commiseration for all I have suffered and continue to suffer?

Curses fill the air naming Raoul, Meg and Madame Giry the main causes for all my life's troubles. Knowing it isn't true does not keep me from blaming them during my illness. I am tired, hungry, without clothing and feeling more feverish by the second. No one is coming. They are going to leave me here to fend for myself or let me die while they party in my house. If I live to see tomorrow I will hunt each and every one of them down then kill them in a way that will cause the most pain, pain that will linger for days. I can do that. Was I not at one time also known as the Angel of Death in Persia? I must be getting delirious for I do not ever let myself recall those soul destroying days in Persia willingly.

Trying to calm myself I straighten the sheet as best I can. It is bunched underneath me and digging in places that make it hard to lie still. Using what seems to be a massive amount of my reserves I do manage to get the wadded cloth pulled out from under me. It is ridiculous that such a simple task leaves me so weak and out of breath. I'll worry about pulling it in its proper place later.

My door opens and in steps Meg with her back facing me. She is carrying a tray perched on her hip leaving her left hand free to close the door. So I am to be feed after all. I suppose it would cause trouble to explain my demise to the authorities or a bigger ordeal to try to rid themselves of my decaying carcass.

"Woman I thought I told you to leave," I growl accompanied by a growl from my stomach. I smell the aroma of cooked beef. Cook sent me some of her famous soup. At least she knows which side her bread is buttered on.

"Well I could take this tray back downstairs and eat it myself. I haven't had my own lunch yet," she offers as she faces me.

Folding my arms across my chest my runaway tongue disagreeably says, "Fine. Leave. I have no use for you or anyone else." A bold lie I shall likely regret if she does take heed and leave me to my own devices.

I am not to be starved after all is resounding around my head like a victory cheer. Her steps bring her to my beside. Laying the tray on the bedside table she puts her hands on her hips to look down at me with censure in every inch of her face. Bending down she begins to straighten my wrinkled bedding as she scolds, "Erik I swear you are such a child. I never would have guessed it but you are. Gustave acts older than you do at times. All these years I overlooked your tantrums. Now I see them for what they were, a little boy's outcries for attention. And before you toss out any more threats might I remind you it is a waste of precious breath at the moment. In your current state you'd have trouble whipping a flea."

Later I will take her to task for her daring words but for now I have other concerns. Being reminded how little I had covered does not soothe my growing temper nor does the brush of her hands on my skin as she wrestles with my bed linen. By God she will pay once I have my strength back. Once she deems the bedding as properly straightened she begins to feed me. I justify opening my mouth to the spoon of soup she presses against my stubborn lips as a necessary evil. If I die of starvation who will avenge my death when I am gone? Briefly I see a smile of satisfaction cross her lips then it is gone to be replaced with a blank air of indifference.

"While I feed you I will inform you of what we have planned," Meg states as if my cooperation in these plans is a foregone conclusion.

"Plans?" I ask with false calm. The soup is good and soothes the pangs of hunger I suffered due to their negligence.

"Yes, plans. Abigail, Howard and I discussed your care at length while you stewed yourself out of your tantrum. I have already brought a few things and will send for the rest in due coarse. I'll be taking the connecting room so I will be able to attend your needs during the night. Get used to the idea of a woman taking care of your needs Erik. Until you are able to move from bed to the facilities I will be your crutch. We have agreed that in this instance propriety shall be overlooked. Who is to know anyway? Your home is far enough from the city that only those in residence will know what goes on."

Nastily I say, "Just so. If I were to take it into my head to rid myself of an annoyance no one would be the wiser." Poor foolish woman. Does she not know that no matter how careful people are a good scandal has a way of finding its way to every dinner party.

Not missing a beat she returns, "Yes that has crossed my mind also. In fact that is a subject we discussed. We rejected the idea of ridding ourselves of a nuisance because of the trouble we'd have ridding the house of the evidence. So for now Erik, you are safe."

I swear I hear a threat in her words, a real threat. Nonsense, Meg wouldn't…Howard wouldn't…Cook wouldn't….Maybe Cook would. Our last meeting did not go well. Perhaps Meg has an ax or two to grind as well. Warily I sip at the soup. So many names of poisons flit into my mind with each bite. I know of many that are not detectable and leave the impression of death from natural causes. Meg's lips quirking settles the matter. She is having fun at my expense. Another offence she shall pay for once my health is back to what it should be.

After my lunch is consumed I learn my humiliation is not over as of yet. I ask for her to leave so I may make use of the facilities. I am in for a shock when she says calmly and matter-of-factly, "Erik you haven't been listening. I am taking care of your needs. You know as well as I do you cannot make it out of bed alone let alone across the room. You will need my assistance." Once again her face is covered with a schoolgirl blush that I know is deceptive. Hoping to gain the upper hand I am ready to gloat over her predicament but her gaze does not turn away from mine. Now it is I who feel the rush of color coming upon me. To cover that telltale foolishness I turn away and growl, " I will not let you assist me in my private tasks. Howard…"

She rudely interrupts me to say, "Howard has gone to town to purchase a few necessary supplies and to let the hotel know I won't be returning so they can prepare my bill. Any correspondence will be forwarded here."

Does Meg feel no shame? Telling the hotel she is moving in with me is tantamount to announcing to all and sundry we will be living in sin. So much for secrecy. She knew all along that she gave the gossips food for fodder until next season. I am not a social butterfly but I do have my business connections and would like to keep them in good standing. Looking as I do they will assume I have kidnapped Meg or worse, given her some drug so I may have my wicked way with her.

"Have you taken leave of your senses? You of all people should know what people are like. Did it not occur to that miniscule pea for a brain that your living here is not proper? If you care nothing for your reputation I certainly wish to preserve mine such as it is." Her lips quiver and her face pales. I am certain the waterfall of tears is not far behind. Meg proves herself to be more in control of emotions than I ever was as she straightens her spine and calmly folds her hands in front of her. If she is waiting for me to apologize she will grow old, whiter and die before that will happen.

"As you have pointed out many times I am not an innocent anymore. I care nothing for what others may or may not say or think of me. Christine….Christine and Maman were the only two people who mattered to me. Christine is dead and my mother has deserted me. You and I may not have been friends but I feel duty bound to return the kindness you showed me during my illness. You needn't worry. I won't take advantage of the situation and do anything silly like harbor secret hopes of winning your affections. You have told me how you feel and I have accepted that. Consider my nursing you back to health as a repayment for that debt as you returned the check I sent. Once you are mended we will both go our separate ways. Our paths need never cross again," she says with finality.

Without any further words Meg stalks over to my wardrobe to retrieve my robe. Tossing it at me she turns her back to me and instructs, "Put it on. It should be sufficient to preserve your modesty. When you return to your bed we shall see about putting on your night trousers."

I want to point out that my "night trousers" are in actual fact now called pajamas but to do so will only further her opinion of me that I am childish. At least she is going to let me don some clothing. I have been conscious of my nakedness since she first stepped into the room, if not consciously then subconsciously. With my body betraying me at every turn I need some shield to hide my shame.

By the time I drag on the robe then struggle to get to my feet my energy has all but drained away. Sitting on the side of the bed I gulp in much needed air. When I recover I must see if I can concoct some sort of preventative medicine against such illnesses. Chinese medicine is far more advanced than the rest of the world but they do not care to share their secrets. Lucky for me I decided to spend my time in the Emperor's castle copying the many scrolls kept by the Emperor's physician.

Never has such a short distance seemed so far as those few feet to my water closet. I did not dally once I finished my task. Meg refused to allow me the privacy of closing the door. Her only concession was to turn her back. Trying to rise from a sitting position once again nearly defeated me. Usually I am very diligent about cleanliness but today my hands get a lick and a promise as my knees begin to shake in an alarming fashion. If I disgrace myself by falling down or God forbid I faint as I am likely to do I shall strike out with the loss of my dignity. I have so little of it left.

I can't say God and I have been on close terms but in the last few months I have called out his name for one reason or another more times than I can count. Silent praises to God run through my head as I at last collapse upon my bed. Meg reminding me I need to stand to put on my pajamas draws a groan from me. If I had been thinking I could have had her pass me the bottoms while sitting down on the toilet. There still would have been the problem of standing then bending down to pull them up. I am not to escape any humiliation. Meg kneels down with my pajama bottom stretched between her hands. I lift one leg at time to find the correct leg for each one. I keep my eyes focused on the wall opposite me. I can feel Meg tugging at the garment signaling that I should stand. I can't do it. I won't do it.

A minute passes with me still seated on the edge of my bed. Meg huffs then stands to her feet to say, "Erik you are a very difficult patient. Let me help you lie down then maybe I can slide the darn things up your legs. If I toss the sheet over you that will preserve your manly pride perhaps. You may as well get used to having to bare all Erik as you can't take care of yourself and I am the only one willing to brave your temper on a constant basis."

Lifting, tugging and wiggling around reaped the benefit of at least being partially covered. Sweat coated both of us but we shared a mutual triumphant smile for a miniscule second when the task was completed. I didn't want her to feel too comfortable as I intended to see her out the front door if I had to toss her out myself. My current indisposition will have to improve before I can hope to even toss out an unwanted mouse.

My deliciously wonderful fantasies of just how I'll deal with Meg turns to so much bitter bile when I hear her next threat to my dignity. With her back to me she carelessly tosses over her shoulder, "I'll be up later to bring you some dinner. Afterward I'll help you take a bath."

I swear I hear gleeful anticipation in her voice. Before I can recover enough to make my objections known Meg is out the door closing it firmly behind her. I'd shout some very colorful phrases but she'd only tell me I am proving just how immature I am. Clamping my lips tight I nip the tip of my tongue. Tears of pain gather in my eyes. At least it kept me from hurling every foul word I know in several different languages including French and English.

Tonight I'll give Mademoiselle Margaret Giry her marching papers. Howard will be visiting an agency in the morning. I'd rather have a stranger tend to my intimate needs than Meg. I feel as if anyone in the world would be more acceptable than Meg. Using the excuse of her sin against Christine as my reason for my strenuous objections conveniently covers a motive I dare not examine too closely. Whatever punishment I have to endure I will welcome it as long as it keeps me from betraying Christine's memory and my love for her. I would die before I committed that final act of perfidy.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

**The Bitter With the Sweet**

Meg and I have been staring at one another for what seems hours but in actuality it has been only a few angry minutes. I can be as stubborn as she can. This is my house, my infirmity and I will deal with it in my own way. Just because I have gotten worse over the last few days does not mean I am incapable of treating myself.

My stomach growls and I cough to cover the betraying noise. I just swatted away the tray Meg tried to put across my lap. It now resides on the floor amongst the temptingly delicious aromatic food that should have been my evening meal. It is all Meg's fault. I told her as much just seconds after flinging my arm out to connect with the wooden tray.

I nearly cheer when she gives in first but hold back my victory celebration when she says, "Erik this is not my fault. It is ridiculous to continue to do things that are meant to spite me but only hurt you. I already had my meal and as you can see by my nightgown and robe I have bathed. Can you not let your pride and defenses down for once? Is it so unthinkable to have anyone offer you help?"

I hear pity in her tone. One thing I won't tolerate is pity. Christine called me a pitiful creature of darkness. I haven't been able to forget her words or how they made me feel. I don't want or need pity. I can't have what I want, what others have. Love has been denied me for as long as I have memory. If my mother or father loved me it is a long forgotten emotion.

"I told you to leave. I do not want you here. Go find one of your gentlemen friends who will appreciate your questionable charms," are words I speak hoping to injure her to the point she will leave out of self-preservation.

"No matter what you do Erik I will keep coming back. It is the one thing I can do for you. You have no need of my money or my affection but I can and will nurse you back to health whether you like it or not," is the challenge she tosses at my feet or would if I could stand. At the moment it is more like a verbal slap in the face much like a duelist would use to challenge an opponent.

Meg is no match for me. Men have gone against me and died for their troubles. Did Meg imagine that just because I am sick and she plays Florence Nightingale that I will erase what she did from my memory? I may have let my newfound conscience show her some leniency but I'll not let her believe she is absolved in my eyes for her crime. It is becoming clear to me that I should have sent her to the gallows or to suffer the rest of her life in prison. Why Raoul agreed with me on that is likely due to his chivalrous nature and his belief that Christine would hold no grudge against Meg. He knows nothing about the gun being mine or that it had been my responsibility to see that it was kept safely locked away and unloaded. I'd rather he never learn of that since it would jeopardize our newly formed bond with Gustave being the peacemaker keeping us from going at one another's throats.

Meg appears to have metaphorically shackled her feet to my bedroom floor. I am too weak to remove her and my not so loyal employees will not do so. I shall not forget Meg's part in this insult to me. If she thinks my face is horrific I imagine she will faint at the sight of all the ugly scarring across my back and buttocks. A horsewhip is a very affective way to insure someone's cooperation. As a child I defied my master and earned five lashes for each offense. As a man I did nothing wrong other than to look different than everybody else. Superstition can lead people to believe the most improbable rubbish such as a man being sent by the devil to lure innocents to hell. They tried to beat the demon out of me. That experience proved I had no place in the outside world so I returned to the prison of the opera house believing that life in the underground was all I deserved. I suppose that increased my anger and hatred toward anyone normal. Honestly I still find it hard to think of myself as normal. Too many years living as a ghostly phantom will tend to instill doubts about ones place in the normal world.

My continued glaring at Meg has only increased the throbbing inside my skull. Sufficient time has passed for me to accede to her demands. I will let it be known it is only a temporary concession on my part and only because it will be a convenience for me to have a servant at my beck and call. That is how I will view Meg, as a servant. I might even offer her a salary to cement the deal.

"Very well then, have it your own way. Stay if you must but don't say I didn't warn you. Bring me another tray. Pass me some paper and pen. I will set down the terms of our bargain. When you return you may read and sign the agreement. Refuse to sign and I'll show you the door," thus said I turn my head to indicate she is dismissed. My writing case and pen are tossed onto my stomach pushing air from my lungs in an unplanned manner which is Meg's goal I am sure.

Before each sentence is penned on the paper I examine intently the meaning for any hidden flaws in my demands. I'll not give her a loophole to change our contract to suit her. She'll soon see that she will be signing a contract with the devil's proxy. No mercy shall be given or no quarter spared. The letter of the contract will be carried out or she will rue the day she crossed swords with me.

Finishing my task I am achingly brought to stillness as a picture I drew several years ago of Christine falls from my writing case. I tried to age her likeness with graceful strokes of my pen. I knew her beauty would be one that improved with age. I had been proved right. Christine came to me that second time looking even more splendid than when she was a young girl. Now she had the knowledge of womanhood to add mystery and seduction to her aura. It breaks my heart to think of her lying in that dark and cold ground with her beauty fading. Coward that I am I could not end my life so I could be with her in eternity. I have tried many times to end things but always something holds me back from taking that final irrevocable step.

Silence accompanied Meg into my room with a second tray. Good! I've rendered her speechless. Feeling better after my stomach is once again appeased I am willing to let our most recent disagreement pass. She will sign this agreement then our new relationship will commence. After presenting her with my demands I carefully observe her face and body posture. Little things in a person's body language can tell a whole complicated story if one knows how to read the almost imperceptible clues.

Only by the tightening of her mouth and stiffening of her spin does she give me an indication what she thinks about my offer. Just when I am feeling pleased with myself Meg stuns me by saying offhandedly, "I agree to most of this but I must insist on an increase of one hundred dollars a month. Expenses you know. I am no longer earning my living and must reserve my capital for the future."

It is on the tip of my tongue to tell her I am not employing her in the capacity of her former position nor that which she did unbeknownst to me after her normal working hours. I won't come right out again and label her a whore. Meg did not admit to taking money from those men for herself. Everything went into my business. Money wasn't even put in her hands. Her clients simply arranged for the money to be deposited into my account at the bank. Most would say that makes me her procurer or a gigolo however one cared to view the situation. I don't wish to examine it in the least.

I am sure I shocked her to the core when I made no verbal protest at the amount of money she wanted over what I already offered. Damned if she won't earn every penny. If she thought me monstrous before then she will be in for an eye opening experience. Blowing on the ink it is hard not to laugh out loud at my cleverness. I can get my revenge without it appearing I am doing any such thing. Meg thought she knew misery? Ha! She has no idea what true suffering is but I will make it my business to drive it home into her ill educated brain. Not only will she leave my home but I can see her booking passage all the way back to Paris. A fleeting reminder of just who else might return to France sours my pleasure until I force that unpleasant idea from my mind. He has not shown any interest in her before and I would think he'd be less inclined now after what happened.

Meg got her own back when it came time for my bath. Howard had opted to take Meg's being here as an opportunity to visit a nephew I heard him mention before. It is my belief he is avoiding facing me until Meg's staying here is a fait accompli. The coward will be gone for a couple of days. I won't give in without a fight. If I have to remain unclean then so be it. Mentally I upbraid myself for cowardly straying from my plan to humiliate and degrade her.

My resolve is put to the test when it is time for my evening bath. Preserving my modesty is now my more pressing concern. Not one step shall I take with that woman in my bedroom.

"Erik, don't be childish. We are both adults," Meg scolds for the tenth time.

"I am not a child which is my point. I am a grown man and do not need or want a voyeur removing my clothing or standing over me while I complete my ablutions. I am perfectly…" I am cut off mid sentence.

"Normally yes, you could fare just fine but these are not normal circumstances. You are ill, running a fever and in need of a good washing," she states with a wrinkle of her nose that leaves me in no doubt she is implying I do not smell very nice. I had noticed that this morning but felt too ill to care and now she is throwing it in my face at a time when I am too weak to take exception to her slight. I will not comment on how my mouth tastes after losing several meals after only just managing to get them down.

"Well if I offend you so badly the door is just across the room. I am sure a buggy can be made ready for you or if you are desperate for fresher beings you are free to walk. It is only some twenty miles or so. Not far at all as the crow flies," slides out of my mouth with glee picturing her walking down the road just as the heavens let loose with a tremendous storm.

With a disgusted huff Meg sets to pulling at the sheet I have tightly tucked under me and pulled all the way to my chin. This sheet and my pajama bottoms are all that preserve my flagging dignity and I will not let go of them easily.

Swatting at her hands I shout angrily, "What the hell are you doing? Remove this sheet and I will…I will." I can't say anything horrible enough to describe what I am capable of doing to someone crossing me.

"What? What will you do Erik? Punjamb me? Strangle me like you did poor Piangi? Hang me from the rafters like you did Joseph Buquet?" Gasping now in real terror she places both hands over her mouth as her eyes widen to twice their normal size. She knows how I feel about those murders. They have haunted me for ten years without any lessoning of my guilt. I am guilty. Nothing will change what I did or calm me on those nights my ghosts come to wail and moan as they point accusing fingers at me. Even if I beg a thousand pardons it will not exonerate me just as Meg's guilt will likely haunt her. It is Meg's crime I focus on to avoid my own demons.

"I will if you do not shoot me first as you did poor innocent Christine!" I shout trying to quiet the voice inside my mind telling me it is not right to use Christine against Meg in this way.

For a moment I believe I have won but she does not leave. Instead she straightens then inhales deeply several times. Closing her eyes I imagine she is saying a prayer or casting a curse upon me. Much to my astonishment Meg leans down and calmly tugs the sheet out of my lax hands. Grabbing ineffectually at the tail end of the sheet my fingers grasp thin air. Smiling down at me triumphantly she holds the sheet above her head like a trophy she has won.

Quirking her eyebrow she waits for me to comment. Stubbornly I clamp my lips tighter. I won't give her any satisfaction by saying a word. A second later I find my optimism on winning this war by silence to be lost before it has hardly begun. My last line of defense is being tugged over my hips. Pressing my buttocks into the mattress hinders Meg's tugging motion but is only a stopgap at best.

"Woman, are you mad? Have you no modesty or shame?" I splutter through my anger and embarrassment.

"Mad? Most definitely. Shame? Not anymore. Going to let you deter me? Not a chance. This has to be done Erik. I am at the moment stronger than you are. What shall it be, by force or with your cooperation?"

A man spouting such vile suggestions as I hurled at Meg would be tarred, feathered then hung. During my reign at the opera house often I was accused of such heinous behavior and often the real culprit was Joseph Buquet. It maddened me then just as it did now. If I allowed Meg this liberty with my person and she saw….No I cannot allow it. I have so little to be proud of. Actually nothing if one discounts fathering a son with a woman belonging to another man. Even my one blessing in life I tainted. Scars on the inside and out haunt me to this very day. What God did not give with his blessing man supplied with cruel sadistic abandon using whips, knives or any other form of weapon that would keep the Devil's Child submissive until needed for a performance in the center tent. Even now I can hear the laughter, the screams of women and children as coins are tossed on the floor of my cage. The tinkling of coins is a sound I abhor. At the moment that sound is growing in volume inside my brain. I strain not to call out for mercy just as I did all those years ago. Pleading only earned me more lashes from my master's whip.

"Meg…please," someone whimpers. Surely it is not me. Unfortunately years of degradation leaves one with a low threshold against losing any further sense of pride in oneself. This pitiful utterance escaped my mouth before I had the thought forming in my mind to do so. It is a remnant from the miserable child I used to be. Most of the time I can ignore those recurring nightmarish instances I experienced at the hands of my master when I was just a small boy of five or six. During one of the whippings I found that if I let my mind wander to more pleasant places the pain lessoned just enough for me to survive.

My face I hide with a mask and my body I hide with layers of clothing. The remains of that small tormented boy still lives on inside of me and is getting harder and harder to hide. Likely he will be a part of me for as long as my body holds life. Only once in my life did I trust enough to let someone see inside my mind. She was unable to deal with the twisted broken soul beneath my outer shell. If I am unbearably ugly on the outside inside I am horror personified. Try as I might some things I cannot control as I would wish. Two traits I possess come to mind, jealousy and my quick temper that causes me to strike out before I can use my intellect to find a calmer way to deal with difficult situations.

Meg stares down at me with an inscrutable countenance. My patience is beginning to wear thin. At the best of times I have very little. I can read nothing from her eyes or her face. It is clear she has lived in my company too long. I have rubbed off on her.

"Erik, if it distresses you so badly then leave the bottoms on. I'll fetch a shirt and you can put that on as well. With my help we will lower you into the tub. I see no need for you to waste energy removing unnecessary clothing but if that is what it takes then so be it."

Damn it she is right. I cannot expend what little energy I have on tasks that are only necessary for the preservation of what is left of my dignity which at this point is hanging by a thread. If I do this I shall never forgive Meg for being the one to bring me to my knees without so much as one strike of any weapon other than calm cold reason.

"Alright, do what you must. Just know I shall not forgive this trespass to my privacy," my threat comes out sounding weak due to my knowing just what Meg is about to see and what she will now think of me. Before she may have had some schoolgirl fantasy about me carried over from her girlish days in the opera house but now she will come face to face with the true horror that is me.

"Oh Erik, you fool. Why can't you see…Oh never mind. Let us just get this over with," she offers dejectedly. What she has to be dejected about is unknown to me. She should be feeling triumphant to see me brought down from my pedestal. The great man has fallen to the depths of degradation.

At least she conceded to let me wear my clothing into the water closet. Conveniently a chair has been placed by the side of my tub. It can only have been put there by Meg. Hopes of finding some flaws in her plan are fast slipping away. Even with her aid in getting me here I am ready to collapse which I do as soon as I reach the chair.

The shirt she gave me I am able to remove by myself but the bottoms to my pajamas are beyond me. Meg motions for me to give her my hands so she can help me up. If this is what it will be like when I am old and feeble I shall die young. Why live with nothing in my life to give me incentive? Gustave I feel is lost to me even though I got Raoul's assurance that would not happen. He is young and the young are quick to forget.

Resting my hand on the sink Meg works at the band of my pajamas. Slowly she pulls them down. Letting my mind drift to music I am able to distance myself from what is taking place. A gasp from Meg rips that sanctuary from me.

"Oh Erik, what has been done to you? Who or what could have made such awful scars? Are they painful still?" she asks just before I feel her hands running up and down my legs. Caresses such as this are foreign to me. Not even Christine touched me enough to know the secrets of my body's total disfigurement.

"Meg if you value your life you will cease touching me and asking questions about things that are none of your concern. I have only given permission for your help in getting ready to bathe not resurrect old tales of my misspent youth. You and I are not friends. We do not share tidbits of our lives with one another. You Meg, mean nothing to me, how often and in how many ways must I say this?" spits forth from me with as much venom as I can muster while feeling in need of a prop.

Wordlessly she taps her hand against my calve indicating I should lift my leg then repeats the gesture on the other leg. Her hair brushing against my vulnerable manhood instantly gets an unplanned and unwanted reaction. All I need now is for her to look and see proof of my supposed lustful tendencies. She either does not see or pretends not to as she stands quickly with a flushed face. That could be from coming to a standing position rather abruptly. I will accredit her reaction thusly so as not to dwell on did or did she not see anything other than my scars.

While Meg's back was turned to put my garments in the hamper I eased my foot over the edge of the tub. If I died in the process I would be lowering myself in this tub. Rubber would be sturdier than I feel at the moment. My legs are beginning to shake and will give way shortly. Contemplating how much damage I would do if I simply dropped down into the water I debated whether injuring myself would be worth saving face. It would and I did, regrettably. Seconds later as blackness engulfed me I felt water gushing into my gasping mouth and nose. I would drown thus paving the road to heaven with further indignities. Cursed in life and cursed in death.

"My God Erik, what have you done? Your pigheadedness is likely to lead to your death. I will mourn you even as I curse your stupidity in not seeing the good sense in accepting help when it is offered and you need a helping hand. There is no shame in that," her voice softened from an accusing shout to a soothing conciliatory tone.

Her attempt to be kind only makes things worse. Now I am to have her pity. Weak as an infant I can do nothing as Meg proceeds to wash me. In any other circumstance or if I were someone else this could be a pleasant experience, desired even. To be honest the warm scented water eased some of the ache in my muscles. My stomach settled down to only mildly protesting a sitting position.

The washcloth wiped over my skin in slow circular motions. I popped my eyes open as I felt my wig leaving my head. Oh no! That I would not stand for in any circumstances.

"Damn you woman are you to leave me with nothing? Leave, now! If you don't I shall not be responsible for what I do. I shall finish this or die in the attempt," I threaten to no avail. Likely she knows I am unable to carry out any of my threats at present.

"Erik must I remind you again that I have seen you? I know what is or rather is not underneath. I had a very close look from just offstage. Everyone did who had a part in your opera. We saw Erik. Christine made sure of that. Has it never once crossed your mind that she could have told Raoul to go to hell? If she had doubts about him being her true love she should have said something and spared everyone what happened later," Meg says using Christine in an inexcusable way.

My anger must be clearly written on my face for she quickly begins,"I am not trying to belittle Christine. It is just that I was closer to her than anyone, even you. She told me things she could tell no one else. Eventually she told me about you but I thought you were part of her very vivid imagination. I would like for you to see her as a person, not an angel but someone with flaws. I know you want to see her as perfect but she wasn't Erik, no one is. Let me help you Erik. For Christine," blatantly she uses my emotional connection to my beloved to coax me into surrendering my pride.

What does it matter? Mention of Christine brings so many feelings rushing through me it is hard to suppress the sobs working their way up into my throat. Tiredly I lean forward so it is easier for Meg to remove my wig without having to strain. Cool air alerts me that I am now completely exposed. There is nothing left to hide behind.

"Erik I don't know what cleaner you use but I took the liberty of sending all but one of your wigs to be cleaned. Tomorrow I can send this one to town," Meg offers matter-of-factly as if that sort of thing were an everyday occurrence. For me it is but not for her.

Washing my hair was just something I did for personal hygiene not for pleasure. Meg's massaging fingers on my scalp are just short of heaven. After only a little bit I relax so much I believe I actually dosed off. That relaxation wore off quickly when she began to wash my back. I expected more gasps of horror or exclamations of how terrible it all looked but nothing came. The way she stroked my back could only be described as tender, almost loving.

The washcloth floated between my legs yet I still feel her soft strokes upon my marked flesh. Gentle fingers trace over one scar then moves on to another. Silent exploration is the only response I get from her. I want to curse at her for being so sensitive to my pain. I want an excuse to hurl more insults at her. What I am feeling is a mixture of pleasure and pain. Having Meg this close is upsetting. Not used to such touching it leaves me not knowing how to react. This is turning out to be just as disorienting as I believed it would be. I cannot trust this euphoric ease Meg's ministrations have lulled me into. Leaving oneself open like this is asking to be hurt. Did I learn nothing from Christine's betrayal? True she had good reason to fear me but deep down she had known I'd never do anything to physically hurt her and yet she exposed me in a way guaranteed to bring me the most pain and humiliation.

I make no protest when Meg offers to help me from the tub. I am so out of sorts and confused I don't protest when Meg helps me into clean nightwear. Like a child I let her do up my buttons and then help me to bed. She even brushed wisps of my still damp hair from my brow. Exhaustion overtook me. Closing my eyes gradually sleep took me away from the reality of my broken life. Can I never find peace from the things that haunt me? Oh Christine I miss you so. Please help me to overcome whatever it is that is happening to me. Meg's face with that last tender look she gave me is the last thing I remember before I fall deeply asleep. For once my dreams were pleasant or I must assume so. I could not recall a single one the next morning but on other nights I recalled every frightening moment of those dreams that haunted me in the past. I woke with a smile on my face for the first time in my life.

**A/N: Read. Enjoy. Review. **


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

**Two Sides of the Coin**

One week of constant meddling in my daily routine has left me so confused about what I feel as apposed to how I wish I could feel. I wanted and still want hate to be the only thing I feel for Meg. Once I told Christine hate can turn to love and to some extent I believe Christine and I left the fear and hatred behind us once we shared the ultimate intimacy two people can experience.

I am almost fully recovered and soon Meg will have no reason to stay. Howard is blatantly campaigning for Meg to become a permanent fixture in my household. It isn't possible. I can't allow her to invade my space so completely. Contrary to my expectations Meg has brought light and laughter to my home. Not open laughter by me but I hear it coming from the kitchen while I eat my meal sitting in an easy chair with a tray upon my lap. Meg insists that it is time for me to start getting out of bed so my strength will return.

For whatever reason, I did not disabuse her of the fact that I already took short trips to my water closet and around my room without calling for her assistance. I could have given Meg her marching papers days ago but hesitated to do so. I refuse to give credence to the voice inside my head taunting me that I enjoy her rapier repartee. She is the first person I have met to be able to cross verbal swords with me and live to fight another day.

In the beginning I planned to toss Christine's parting in Meg's face every chance I got. After that initial attempt to use my lost Angel to wound Meg I haven't drawn blood with that weapon again. It would be so easy to do so and yet I avoid mention of Christine when in conversation with my caretaker. By mutual agreement we both do not speak of the past at least not in any way that is hurtful to either one of us.

It is impossible for me to have dismissed out of hand Meg's duplicity in my loss but with determination I place it where I do not have to relive every sad moment of Christine's death. I am learning that living in the present is much healthier than trying to hang onto an impossible dream from the past.

The day Meg brought me a letter from Raoul and one from Gustave my world felt righted again. Only then did I realize how off kilter I have been the last month without Gustave's presence. A child's joy in life is a calming influence on someone like me.

So eager was I to open Gustave's letter I nearly pushed Meg out the door of my bedroom. Tearing it open I began to read. With each word my heart bleed a little. Time and distance it would seem have done their work on my son. He all but said he hates me. Rumors about me and his mother are still circulating and he has overheard discussions not meant for a child's ears. Even Meg earned some of his anger. His anger toward her I understand but to me, his father, it is like a knife thrust into my chest to know what he is now thinking of me.

I shall have my work cut out for me. We were just beginning to find some common ground before he left now I shall have to start at the beginning. He says he wants to see me but I suspect it is to question me about things I'd rather not bring out into the open again. I shall have to find a way to relay my story to him so that his childish mind can understand. The truth must be told as I won't lie to him but only as much of it as he will be able to deal with and understand. As for Meg she is on her own. My troubles are mine and hers are hers.

It pleases me to know Meg wants to know what the letters contained. Spitefully I left them out on different tables just to see if she would tamper with them. If it were me there would be no question of whether I would read the contents but when I would read them. Unnecessary fluffing of my pillows garnered her no information. Does she think we are bosom friends now who share every intimate detail of their lives?

When she brings my dinner tonight I will throw her a bone by telling her Raoul and Gustave are well. Their return date is for me alone. What possible interest could she have in either Raoul or Gustave? Unless…No, I doubt she'd look in Raoul's direction or he in hers. He is too much of a puritan which is why Christine's betrayal drove him to desperate behavior. He couldn't strike out at her so he punished himself much as I did so often in my life. I have learned self-castigation is a useless endeavor. Nothing is gained from punishing oneself other than lowering your self-respect. Mine has been brought to the ground so many times it is a wonder I survived.

All day I felt on needles and pins knowing I had something that would peek Meg's interest. Should I drag out the torture or divulge it quickly giving her no time to think of how to react? I have so little entertainment these days I will grasp at even the smallest thing to kill time.

Meg comes upstairs at the usual time. I am sitting in the chair by the fire ready for my tray. The two letters are temptingly laid out on the table. I take note of Meg's quick sideways glance at them. Good, she knows they are just there within reach if she dared to steal from me. Part of me wishes she would try to take them. It would give me an excuse to…to do what exactly? Searching my motives the unsettling notion comes to mind that it would give me a reason to touch Meg. Another startling observation is that I don't believe I would be all that angry if she invaded my privacy. Does this mean I want to bring her into the inner circle of my personal space? Nonsense, I dislike her immensely. If not for her Christine would be here quite possibly in this very room with me. That is so much pie in the sky. There were so many variables at work during that time when I tried to regain Christine's interest. Failing to take advantage the first time we were together I once again thought only of my own needs and wants. I discounted how Christine's leaving Raoul would affect Gustave or anyone else.

Shoving those unwanted revelations aside I say conversationally, "I suppose you know these letters are from Raoul and Gustave."

"Yes, of course. How could I miss knowing that having come across them at every turn. One would think they are letters from a lover the way you keep them so close and reread them daily," she sounds not angry but something else, perhaps jealousy is what I hear. Am I mistaken in not seeing her interest in Raoul as that of a woman vetting a potential suitor? She is wasting her time if that is the case. Raoul could not forgive Meg to that extent. From Gustave's letter I got the impression he has lost the blinders on his eyes where both Meg and I are concerned. I don't relish our next meeting if there is to be one at all. Perhaps I have lost him to Raoul during this separation.

"Shall I tell you what the letters contain? It hasn't escaped me that you cast curious glances at them every time you see them."

"Erik either you will tell me or you won't. It makes no difference to me," her lie slips past her lips in a rush.

"Oh, so it would not interest you to know Raoul and Gustave are returning home in a couple of weeks."

"Their traveling schedule is of no consequence to me. I don't keep track of other people's comings and goings. So…did they…am I mentioned at all?" she asks timidly.

Who is it that concerns her more, Raoul or Gustave? Telling myself it makes no difference to me is useless when all I can think of is grabbing her and shaking until the information falls from her lips.

"What would you have Raoul ask of me? Should he concern himself with your continued good health? Should Gustave inquire as to whether anyone has drawn your anger lately? Or is your concern for Raoul and his return that interests you?" I nearly shout as my anger rises. What has got me in such a state? It must be her continued lies and avoidance of answering my questions.

"Erik, what a question. My concern for their welfare should be obvious. In a way Gustave is my nephew. If not by blood then by the closeness Christine and I shared. It is only natural for me to ask after them both," she offers reasonably but I am not in a mood to be reasoned with.

"Raoul is a wealthy man. His son is in need of a mother. He is ripe for the picking. A crafty woman could work her magic on him with ease," I calmly say all but accusing her outright of having machinations on her mind toward Raoul. I made it sound as if she plotted to remove Christine from Raoul's life.

"I refuse to discuss this with you when you are in this mood. When you send your reply perhaps you will tell them I asked about them and send my kind regards. Now I'll leave you to finish your supper. It is likely to be cold by now which is all your fault so do not even ask for a second tray to be sent up," is her haughty reply before exiting the room and shutting the door with a little more force than usual. So, I have gotten under her skin. Good. What I will do now I have not worked that out. She'll be gone in a few days anyway. My stomach turns leaving a sour taste in my mouth. Indigestion is all it is.

After eating restlessness settles upon me. I hate being idle. I'll have to see about getting one of these rooms up here fitted out as a music room. Too long I have gone without putting one note to paper. Melodies are drifting like slow moving rivers of musical notes inside my head. Creativity of this magnitude hasn't visited me in such a long time. Exhilaration drives me to abandon the remainder of my meal. Always music has been my mistress. When I hear the call I must answer.

Ignoring the slight dizziness I feel going down the stairs I make my way to my makeshift music room. Plans for an addition to my home are sitting on my desk in my study, Due to my renewed inspiration I must bring those plans into reality.

"Sir, what are you doing in here? You should have called for me. What if you had fallen down the stairs?" Howard reprimands me as he enters the room. I usually keep the door locked when I am in the room. This just proves how urgently I needed to sit at my piano.

Without losing my train of thought I answer him distractedly, "I would think it is obvious what I am doing. I am composing. As for coming downstairs on my own I am not an invalid any longer."

"Miss Meg will have something to say about this, Sir. She cares about your welfare even if you do not," again there is censure in his tone.

"What Mademoiselle Giry cares about is the very adequate salary I pay her monthly which if my calculations are correct only seven days have passed thus she is living here on borrowed time as my illness is over." It is true I agreed to a certain salary per month but on my sickbed was not the time to haggle terms of a contract. Since Meg insisted we put our agreement on paper likely I am obligated to her for the remainder of the month.

"About that Sir, I have conferred with Cook and she is in agreement with me that since Miss Giry came everything has run like clockwork. If I may be so bold Sir, this big old house could do with a woman's touch, not that you haven't done your best," Howard is quick to exclaim when my shoulders tense and the music I played stopped.

"Now don't go getting into a snit. You know as well as I do that for some time we have been in need of a housekeeper around here. I'm not getting any younger and Cook…well we know where she stands on matters concerning taking direct care of your rooms or anything that puts her into direct contact with you."

If Howard had not proved to be invaluable to me I'd send him packing right behind Meg and Cook. As it is I'll have to make do with ridding myself of only one thorn in my side, Meg Giry.

"Go Howard before this goes into a place neither of us wishes to go. I'll consider Meg for a full time position. Mind you I make no promises," I warn knowing full well I intend to give her notice via a note under her bedroom door tonight. This cowardly action I won't bother to justify.

This situation with Meg is becoming too involved for me to know which way is up and which is down. Getting rid of her is the best solution for my peace of mind. If circumstances were different…if I were different perhaps then…no there would still be the issue of Christine. Love and hate it is said to be too sides of a coin. The outcome of a relationship depends on which side the coin lands. Until recently I could have been positive in answering on which side the coin had landed as far as Meg and I are concerned. Now…now I am not so sure what I feel. I don't want to feel anything but indifference. It is what I should feel in order to honor Christine's memory. There are so many things in life I cannot control but this I can. Meg will have to go, for her sake as well as mine. I am of no use to anyone when it comes to emotional attachments. Maybe it is a good thing Gustave is pulling away from our burgeoning relationship. Best to nip both associations in the bud before any real damage is done.

Having made that decision I again bid Howard to leave me in peace although a little more forcefully this time. Gauging my mood correctly he leaves me to my own miserable company. This note I find hard to compose and yet it should be easy for me as it is relaying something I want, isn't it?

**A/N: Sorry for the delay. Busy packing and cleaning. I'm being booted out of my home or will be as soon as the short sale goes through.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

**Precipice **

Once I slipped that piece of paper underneath Meg's door settling down to do anything afterward proved impossible. I paced back and forth and round and round until I began to feel dizzy. Maybe my strength is not as recovered as I believed. Getting little sleep is nothing new to me. Sleep for most people is a relief from the days troubles but not for me. Too much horror fills my nightly dreams to give me any piece. My misspent youth and adult trespasses come back to haunt me. I may be a murderer but not one without guilt. Of course at the time my conscience suffered not at all. Only later when I sifted through my experience with Christine did other times in my life come under scrutiny.

Since I could not rest I bathed early on my own with little trouble. I must admit that by the time it came to dressing my level of energy felt woefully depleted. Cook showed her displeasure for my early arrival downstairs for my morning meal by banging pots and pans in a chorus of off-key notes that set up a jangling in my ears. I'll fire her after I have eaten.

Coming in to the dining room the woman eyes me with a grim face. Setting my coffee cup down in front of me I gloat as she places it gently on the table. No matter how perturbed with me she is it does not slip her mind to tread carefully where I am concerned. The woman sleeps with her door bolted and I do think I've heard her move the heavy chest that resides in her room in front of her door. Now if only Howard showed the same level of healthy fear life would be easier, doubly so if I could convince Meg her live hung by a slim thread held by me.

Eight o'clock arrives and still Meg does not come. The woman is purposely dragging this out so as to annoy me to the utmost. My schedule thus far has been to eat at precisely seven o'clock after having performed my morning ritual to prepare for my day. Wonderful release came to me the first day I could get in and out of the tub without Meg's aid. The last couple of times her hands massaging my back or her fingers tracing over my scars as she washed my back and shoulders greatly disturbed me. Being a man of course the part of me that displays my sexual arousal responded instantly to those tender mercies. That didn't bother me as much as the other responses filling me with familiar longings, longings I find inappropriate in relation to what I should be feeling.

Hearing Meg's now familiar voice drifting from the direction of the kitchen I can only conclude Cook held my breakfast until Meg gave her permission to feed me. In my own home I am treated with such disloyalty. If ever I find someone capable to fill the shoes of Cook that woman can join Meg as her cook. This late arrival must be to show me I do not rule Meg even in my own home and her under my employee.

Pointedly I ignore Meg as she takes her seat. My coffee is now tepid and not palatable at all in my estimation. Meg has ruined my first cup of coffee of my day. What more will she ruin before I relieve myself of her presence?

Regardless of my intent to hold my tongue a question slips past before I can do anything to stop it. "Well have you nothing to say?" I can't help the impatience coating my words.

"Say, say about what pray tell," she pretends ignorance galling me further. "What my dear Erik do you wish me to say?"

If the authorities wouldn't come banging at my door I'd do away with Mademoiselle Meg Giry thus ridding me of an unnecessary nuisance. I won't give her the satisfaction of explaining anything as she knows very well what I am referring to.

"My note, damn you, what is your reply to my note," I say as I pound my fist on the table setting the silver and water glasses to tinkling.

Cook enters carrying a tray. That woman is within an inch of meeting my Punjab. I'll practice on her then go after Meg. Howard I may spare as I do need someone and it would be too much trouble to find another adequate valet.

Ignoring the plate set before me I glare ineffectually at Meg. The woman has no sense of self-preservation. She must know I have eliminated people with less cause than she has given me. Surely she is not under the illusion she is immune to any of my baser inclinations. Clearly I have been too soft in my treatment of her. This misguided notion she has of being beyond my reach is absurd. Very little inducement would be needed for me to show her exactly what I do to those who try to pit their will against mine.

Cook leaves us but not before asking Meg if there is anything further required of her. I am her employer. I sign the draft notes that pay her salary yet it is to Meg the woman defers for instruction. I won't have this mutiny. Meg has entrenched herself in my life and home too much. I have let her get too comfortable with the situation. It is time I take action to make it clear to everyone just who is master here and that this house does not have a mistress.

Throwing my napkin on the table I hiss in a deceptive cordial tone, "Meg let us not play games. Let us address the issue before us in a civil manner. I insist you leave. I have no further need of you. Pack what you have and be ready to leave this afternoon."

Wiping her lips before serenely laying her napkin across her lap infuriates me. Much more of this and any claim I have to civility will disappear like so much vapor. My patience is wearing thin. Perhaps Meg needs her mind refreshed just how diabolical I can be. Due to her recent frailty I gave her too much latitude in our dealings with one another. Regrettably I let my own grief and our past association soften my responses to Meg.

"I could certainly be ready to leave this afternoon if that is truly what you desire. I feel it my duty to remind you that due to your own insistence we have a contract. If I leave at your direction any monetary gain I would be entitled to will be due and owing to me. I trust you but let us deal in cash only. Payment in full is due at the time I am ready to walk out the door, otherwise I shall have to insist the contract be carried out. Let us not forget that last important clause you demanded I agree to when we first set out the terms of our agreement. If for any reason one of us must break the contract double the amount of the remaining balance shall be owed," smugly she casts me a challenging look.

Damn her. She knows very well I don't keep that kind of cash laying around. Since becoming an honest citizen I am more inclined to trust banking establishments to safeguard my wealth.

"Meg, it isn't reasonable to think I would have such a large amount of cash on hand. You can trust me to deliver payment at the earliest opportunity. Give me an address to send it and I shall have it sent special delivery," reasonably I offer a solution she must see is fair to both of us.

"Trust? Erik anyone who has known you for as long as I have will know just how untrustworthy you have been in the past. Who's to say you are not still that same man? Look how long you pined for Christine. Year after year you pathetically hoped she would come to you. Every move you made brought her closer into your clutches but none of it came about by anything she did. It was all you Erik. Everything had been orchestrated by you. You should have let things be. There…there are other women in the world Erik, women ready to care for you, give you comfort. Alas no, you could see only one woman standing at your side, the one woman who was not destined to be with you. A man so unwilling to let go of a lover after ten years isn't likely to take to change very well."

Before I can stem the tide a red rage rises within me and I am flying across the table to drag Meg toward my with both of my hands wrapped tightly around her neck. This is the part of me I abhor but cannot seem to cut out of me entirely. The last person to feel my hands around their neck I believe was Piangi. At that encounter I had a rope close by to finish what I started. Anyone bringing my wrath upon them had felt the thin wire of my Punjab wrap around their flesh. To feel soft flesh beneath my crushing hands excited me in a way that repulsed me. It did not stop me from continuing to hold tightly to Meg's neck but it did give my conscience a little prick.

I could feel the clawing of her nails ripping into my skin but it felt like I was on the outside looking in on this battle between life and death. Sounds came from her lips that must be pleas for me to release her but all I feel is cold resolve. She should have known better than to mention Christine and to do so in such a way that was guaranteed to release the monster in me.

After only a few seconds Meg slumped against me. Not because I had taken her life but because she simply gave up. I could see the message in her eyes to forge ahead. She wanted me to do this. Could she be like me, wish to take my own life but cowardly refrain from doing so? Am I to be the weapon in her bid for freedom from the ghosts that haunt her? Realization came too late that I would bitterly regret this action. Taking a life distorts the soul how much more evil to take the life of someone like Meg, so fragile and damaged by me?

Gradually sanity returns clearing my head of the monstrous rage controlling me in the last few seconds. That's all it would take for me to end Meg's life, a few interminable seconds. Releasing her throat she slumps down. I catch her before she hits the floor. There is not a discernable rise and fall of her chest. I feel not a wisp of a breath against my skin. Is this it then, one final act of unbridled murderous rage?

Desperately I shake her calling out her name, 'Meg. Meg don't be dead. Don't let me have killed you. I didn't mean it. I swear I didn't mean it. Please don't be dead."

Remorse for my actions is part of my process but I cannot recall such utter despair after taking a life. Almost reverently I lay Meg down on the settee I find myself in front of and crouch down on the floor. How I came to be in the sitting room I don't know. With shaking hand I brush away the hair that frames her face. Those stubborn wisps of hair have always intrigued me. That realization coupled with her pale still face wrenched at my heart. What have I done? Looking down with incredulity at my hands I clench them as if that will hide their horribly culpability. Scrubbing them over my pant legs does nothing to erase what I have done. I could wipe them until they were raw and still I would not remove the taint from them.

"My God Erik!" a voice exclaims from behind me. Howard has entered the room. "What have you done, what have you done?"

Forcing the misery deep down I muster some control so I may answer calmly. Before I can do so Meg stirs and murmurs incoherently. I am certain she will tell of my part in her injury.

"Miss Meg. Are you alright? What happened? Did…did anything untoward happen?" Howard asks using words as close to an accusation as he dares.

Meg turns to look at me. Wanting to look away I force myself to hold her gaze. If I am to be charged I will face it like a man unlike those other times in my life I committed criminal acts without being held accountable by any court.

"Well I would appreciate a glass of water," her croaking voice is like little daggers pricking me. My hands nearly crushed her windpipe. I deserve whatever comes from this.

Meg runs her hand over her throat. This draws my attention to the clear markings made by my fingers. No one could mistake what those prints prove irrefutably. I am a murderous beast. Death is too good for me.

Fumbling with her collar Meg pulls it around her neck tighter and buttons the two top buttons she had previously left undone. I am confused by her action. What is she doing? Surely this is the perfect opportunity for her to get her revenge on me for all my past transgressions.

Howard returns before I can ask any questions. Meg drinks swallowing with slow painful sips. Each of her movements to swallow brings a phantom pain to my own. If I could take on all her pain I would.

As Howard continues to hover over Meg protecting her from me I suppose Meg eases his mind and throws me into a confused emotional quagmire by saying, "Nothing to worry about Howard. Stupidly I swallowed down the wrong way. Erik tried his best to dislodge the bit of whatever got stuck. Lucky for me he succeeded."

Standing up Howard looks from me to Meg unsure of what she told him. With nothing to contradict him he must accept what has been presented as the truth. "Well then, if everything is alright I'll tell Cook to make you a soothing herbal tea. Would you like that Miss Meg?"

Her smile isn't as bright as it usually is but Howard doesn't catch her tentative reassurance as I do. More often lately I found that I could read Meg's thoughts and moods as if we were of a closer acquaintance than we were.

After Howard leaves I reach out to help Meg to her feet but she cowers away from me. Why shouldn't she be afraid of me? Did I not tell her she should be and did I not just moments ago give her all the evidence that what I say is true? I feel as if I am poised on the edge of a precipice within inches of falling into some unknown depth. I am not clear if falling would be my salvation or my damnation.

"Not right now Erik. We won't finish this just now. I…I need time alone, time to think. A little time, that's all I ask of you." Her words echo through me drawing memories I'd rather forget to the surface. I can only stand by helplessly and watch her walk through the door. I want to call her back but find my voice is frozen. Perhaps it is better this way. She will leave me. I will get what I want, to live alone without any encumbrances. Gustave's innocent face flashing before me breaks through what little restraint I had on my emotions. Sobs shake my body so hard I cannot stand. Dropping down I laid my head on the settee where only seconds ago Meg lie prone half dead due to my heinous actions. Is there never to be any relief in my life from suffering? Shall I always destroy any show of kindness anyone offers me? I am doomed, doomed to live life alone. There is alone and then there is lonely. I am lonely.

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait but I worked on my Christmas story. All done and posted so on with the show.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

**Making Amends **

Without any further word I left Meg to seek the safety of my room. I couldn't deal with any more traumatic events. Losing myself as I did is something I battle with every hour of every day. Some days are easier and some are less so. For a few minutes after Meg spoke of Christine I lost any control I usually can bring to bear during times of extreme anger. Years of self diagnosis and treatment gave me the skills to combat the inner rage that is only just under my skin. I have read every book on the subject of mental illness I could lay my hands on and even visited many asylums seeking answers. Since I couldn't very well approach the academic circle overseeing those unfortunate individuals I had to use my skills for getting in and out of places unseen to gain access to those with mild afflictions and those deemed criminally insane. In the end I concluded I am somewhere in-between.

A week went by with me resorting to my old habit of communicating with notes. The trays left outside my door are less than appetizing and as cold as if Cook packed them in ice. Not palatable but nourishing. Feeling as I do food is of little concern to me. Wrestling with my confused feelings takes precedence over anything else.

Starting with my early years in the gypsy fair then continuing on with Christine and the opera house I analyzed everything I could remember. Year by year I lived my life a second time. Some memories I cherish others I would rather forget altogether but know it is not possible or healthy to leave them hidden. I must face all I have done wrong and come to terms with it. I thought I had after fleeing Paris but now I see I only set it aside to deal with at a later date or dismiss it altogether.

Coming face to face with the demon mirror image of oneself is never an enjoyable occasion. For years I mislead myself that the outer me was the only curse I needed to be rid of to be happy. My inner being was so much more horrible than my distorted face or the scarred canvas of my back. Yes I was persecuted by those ill informed souls passing through my life. I may be excused for some of what I did but not all. I am no innocent, not as Meg once was. Her downfall can be laid directly at my feet.

I pointed my finger at her for killing Christine because it eased my own guilt in the matter. Coming to grips with just how much of what happened is the result of my own crazed obsession is not something easy to accept. Even Meg's final action of intending to use my gun to get me to finally really see her is my fault. If I had done the sane thing the gun would have been put in a safe with the ammunition not lying around where Gustave or anyone could pick it up and use it. What if Gustave had found it and it accidentally fired, would I now be sitting here in my room grieving the loss of my only offspring with his mother Christine? Perhaps I would be alone with my agony as Christine would likely not be able to bear to look at me if I were responsible for her son's death.

Christine isn't here for me to beg her forgiveness but knowing how soft of heart she was I think she would grant me some peace. Gustave said she wanted him to tell Meg she was forgiven so why not me? I don't deserve it but feel I have it all the same, at least now I do. Self examination is good for the soul. The past is the past and cannot be altered. What we can do is learn from our mistakes and see that they are not repeated.

Searching my soul I find that I can let go of any anger and blame I wanted to attribute to Meg. We both have a share in this tragedy but I feel I bear the lion's portion. It would be cruel of me to let Meg go thinking I still hold her strictly to blame for what happened. As hard as it is to acknowledge I at last consider Meg's emotions toward me. She professed her love and I rejected her time and time again in my ignorance of just how badly that hurt her tender heart. Back then I didn't care or was unwilling to give it any credence as my focus was Christine. What I wonder would have been the outcome if I had taken Meg under my wing instead of Christine or taken them both as my students. Meg has a lovely voice but Christine's appealed to me more.

A knocking at my door is a welcome break from my own thoughts until it dawns on me that there is only one person who would come knocking at my door this early in the morning. Howard and Cook both give me a wide berth if they hear even the slightest creak of a floorboard. I could avoid those telltale alarms but purposely step on them to give my staff a chance to remove themselves from my path. I feel like an intruder in my own home.

"Erik," a soft voice beseeches me from behind the thick panel of my door.

Panic instantly renders me speechless. I can't face Meg after what I nearly did to her. That I failed in taking her life is not due to anything good in me but more because Meg is another of my victims. The soul I felt long possessed by the devil is trying to reclaim some of its former purity. I'll never be sin free but cannot one purchase their soul by heartfelt regret and repentance? Is that not what God teaches us? Repent of your sins and earn your place in heaven.

I don't know about heaven but I do know there is a hell for I wallowed in its fiery depths for many years. It won't be easy for me to change but I will. I must. My old path leads only to ruin. Not to stray from it is to bind myself to a life not worth living.

Now is as good a time to begin as any. What I shall say I haven't worked out just yet. I will take my lead from Meg. Gauging her emotional state will determine mine. Since words fail me I unlock the door then make a quick run to the window. Childish or not I'd rather be seen looking aimlessly out the window than caught standing in the middle of the room with my tongue glued to the roof of my mouth. This way at least I give the impression I am engrossed in what is going on down in the courtyard rather than taking any interest in whoever dared enter the lions den. Making a decision to confront ones demons does not automatically give one the wisdom to execute that decision.

I hear the rustle of her many petticoats as she enters the room. The sound draws near to me then stops just at my back. In my mind I can almost see her hand rise to hover hesitantly over my shoulder. What I would do if she touched me I am glad will not need to be answered just yet for I feel nothing except her presence behind me. All moisture has dried up inside my mouth yet the palms of my hands feel slippery from the nervous sweat coating them. So this is how it is to be. I am to be reduced to suffering calamities usually felt by adolescents experiencing the first pangs of love.

As much as I wanted to deny it I can't any longer. I do feel something for Meg. It isn't love, not yet at any rate. I…care for her. Perhaps I always have but could not see it because I had been blinded by Christine. I can admit I did like to watch Meg dance. Such fluidity of motion set to music impressed me. Anyone who can use their body to express those emotions music captures is someone special. Now how do I let Meg know that without appearing to be a sentimental old fool?

"Erik I am not leaving. I told you I must stay. Whether you know it or not or will simply not admit it you do need me. Ask Howard and Cook how much better things have been with me here," she is almost pleading with me.

After a pause she rushes into speech, "Gustave. Gustave and Raoul are home. They sent a note saying they would be stopping by for tea. You wouldn't want to stay up here and upset Gustave surely."

Maybe Gustave isn't in such a rush to see me or her. I won't say it out loud but I do think it. Meg places her hand on my shoulder tentatively. I shrug off her offending hand. I am not ready for intimate contact with her. Maybe I never will be. Change takes time. With me it has already taken ten years and I have progressed but there is such a long way to go it may take another ten years before anyone would consider me "normal". Craving contact then getting it after such a long period of denial doesn't give me the euphoria I hoped it might. I want closeness with others but don't know how to maintain that interpersonal relationship without doing something that is guaranteed to destroy everything I worked so hard to get.

Meg has every right to hurl recriminations at me yet here she is worried that I will jeopardize my fragile bond with my son. It would be easier for me to relate to her if she did rail at me. I know how to deal with anger. It is the softer emotions that confound me. When other children were learning how to accept and give hugs and kisses I was trying to survive a lash across my back and living like an animal in a small cage. What I learned instead of familial connections is that humanity and I were to be enemies. Hatred grew in me with every beating, every scream from patrons of the fair and every insult hurled at the child locked in the horror and unable to do a damn thing to change things until the damage had already been done.

Nothing that happened to me is Megs doing but she and those around me reap its aftermath. I must tread carefully lest I damage Meg even more than I have already. Part of me is urging that I drive her away permanently while the other side of me desperately wants to take advantage of this second chance to have what other men have.

"Meg I wish to apologize for my behavior earlier. I know that doesn't erase what I did but I want you to know I am sorry for it and that it will never happen again," I vow hoping I can keep to my promise.

"Erik you keep using words like never, forever, eternity. We don't have the luxury of taking the next hour, second or minute for granted. Christine's life ended in a flash. Mere seconds from gun to her chest then seconds later she was gone. I don't want to relive the past or second guess what the future might be. We only have the here and now and that is what I want, with you, always it has been you. I won't ask that you love me. All I need is to be near you, to know you are well and happy. You may think happiness is not for you but you are wrong Erik. Happiness is within your grasp if you have the courage to reach out and take it, if not with me then with someone else. Gustave is a start. Earn his trust and love. Don't expect for him to feel for you as he does Raoul. To do so is to set yourself up for failure just as I did when I tried to put myself into Christine's place in your heart. I didn't give you time to work it all out, now I will. You don't have to do it alone as you did the last time. You have me. Even if…even if it comes to nothing between us I will be here when you need me," taking a deep recuperative breath she stands quietly behind me for a few seconds.

As I continue to stand like a statue Meg claps her hands then says cheerfully, "Now, why don't you freshen up while I see to getting everything ready for our visitors? Come down when you are ready."

For all her faults Meg continues to have a childish belief that to want something to happen one simply must believe it will. Another trait she has kept despite the dubious life she lead is to hold optimistically that most people are intrinsically good. In most cases that is true, unfortunately in my case it so far from the truth that I must constantly be on my guard against letting out my less savory persona as I did with Meg earlier. If Meg can let my recent transgression pass without accusations and recriminations I can try to be the man she believes I am. I hope I will not disappoint her or myself.

"I shall come down as soon as I am finished. If Raoul and Gustave arrive in the interim please tell them I shall be down shortly."

"Yes of course," she pauses then gives me one last bit of encouragement before she closes the door, "Everything will work out Erik. I know it will. Trust and believe." With that she leaves me to my own devices.

Trust and believe. Trust is not easy for me in the best of circumstances and my experience has been that to believe in anything other than my own merit only leads to disappointment and disaster for me.

Trust another? Believe in another? Oh Christine if ever you cared for me, please help me now. I can't do this alone.

Imagination or not I hear a whisper in my ear or perhaps it is inside my mind, "I am here. Trust and believe."


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen**

**Building the Foundation**

Standing in front of my window I can look down on the courtyard with the long sweeping drive that ends at my front steps. The fountain is pristine now after much cleaning. It felt good to put my hands to use doing something other than working on my trinkets or composing my music. If I were to lose either one of those gifts I'd feel the loss just as I feel Christine's. Some would say that is a poor reflection on what I felt for Christine. It isn't and if anyone knew me intimately they would know my music and the ability to create something out of items others name trash are sacred to me. They are the only talents that are blessed by God in my own mind. Everything else may come from some inner demonic influence but music and creation are uplifting endeavors not only I can appreciate.

Spying on my own son pricks my conscience a little but I must see him before we meet. I need to ascertain whether or not Raoul forced this visit on the boy. If I can't have Gustave's affections without coercion I shall not have him in my life at all. Because of who I am and the atrocities I have committed I have my doubts if I should pursue this relationship with Gustave or not. I'd rather he imagine me a heartless monster than have it confirmed by something I did.

I nearly weep as he steps down from the carriage. In such a short absence he has already changed physically. I can see he has grown at least an inch or two taller. His hair that used to hang almost to his shoulders is now cut short as Raoul's is. Both look more mature with the new style. I grind me teeth trying not to be jealous that they shared this father and son right of passage. I should have taken Gustave to get his first professional haircut. We should have done this together to cement our bond. I wouldn't look any better or worse for having my hair shortened but it would have been worth the barbers nervous staring to have that memory of Gustave turning from sweet little boy into this proper young gentleman. Remorse for having missed so much time with him sends pangs of regret into my chest. What ifs flood my mind. Shaking them off before I can get maudlin I leave my room to head downstairs where I shall see my son after over a month of separation.

Raoul's face had been handsome before but now with the edge of grief carving lines of maturity into his face he now is one of those men women flock around seeking to be the one to give him comfort. Being sentimental women gravitate to those who are suffering. Often it crossed my mind that if I could invent a mask that looked as real as my own flesh I could walk among others without any worries. All I'd need to do was let it be known I lost my lover and my son and countless women would fall at my feet. Having deep financial pockets would not be an unwelcome attraction either. Alas I took another avenue to test my scientific expertise.

As if sensing my presence Meg turns toward me with a brilliant smile. Is this for my benefit or because Raoul has returned? She professed to care for me but that could be so I would allow her to stay knowing Raoul would be coming. Even after our open conversation earlier I find it hard to take in that someone such as Meg could have any attachment to me. Reaching out her hand to me startles me at first. Women are not generally offering to bear my touch. Meg's hand is steady just as her eyes hold mine without shying away. I dare not look too deeply into those blue depths or I may lose myself and I am not ready to relinquish all of me to anyone.

Not wanting to embarrass her I do take her hand. She is a petite woman with small feet and hands. A delicate flower poets might rhapsodize about. My poetry is in my music. I can hear light tinkling sounds that could relay the flight of a butterfly. Drivel. I am getting too soft if such drivel is all I can create. My music used to be dark and passionate. It is worrisome to think my manhood may be connected to my music. Has my passion been snuffed out due to not satisfying my natural urges every so often? I know I have responded to Meg's closeness or the scent of her lingering in a room but nothing that drove me to want to end my self imposed celibacy for the last ten years. Thinking about it in terms of sharing what God created man and woman to do does not feel right with my son only just outside my front door. Such lustful imaginings should not be filling me with longing nor tightening my trousers yet it is welcome as proof I am still capable of performing as a man even if I don't get an opportunity to test the waters. To know I can is enough for now.

As I reach ground level Raoul steps forward to offer me his hand. What is this? Suspiciously I look from his outstretched hand to his face. There is nothing there that should alarm me. I perceive no threat or treachery not even a hint of his former wariness and dislike of me. He isn't friendly but he is accepting of my role in our trio, me, Raoul and Gustave. I accept his hand with as much grace as I can muster while still harboring some doubt. Raoul brings Gustave forward by wrapping his hand around the back of Gustave's neck. Envy pierces me knowing I want that same right of intimate familiarity that is between Raoul and Gustave.

"Gustave, say good day to Uncle Erik," Raoul instructs our son. Uncle Erik startles me for a moment and I look to see the person I let slip my notice. There is no one. I am Uncle Erik. I remember now that is how we decided to have Gustave address me to save him confusion.

"Uncle Erik it is good to see you again. I have missed seeing your inventions and also I have missed your music lessons…a little," his afterthought to include music hurts me a little as that is one thing I hoped to build on between us. Being back in France I hoped Raoul would expose him to the arts thus peeking his interest. My son cares more for science than he does for music. I won't let that taint our friendship which I hope will grow and expand beyond mere student and teacher. I shall just have to cultivate my scientific side more than as a way to pass time.

"I am most pleased you have returned and your father of course," I add the last not really caring but it will not serve my purpose to cast aspersions on Raoul.

Gustave's eyes travel to Meg and widen in surprise quickly replaced by male admiration that I consider far beyond his young age. What more than the arts did Raoul expose the boy to during their return to the city of love and romance?

"Raoul, Gustave, I am sure you both remember Mademoiselle Giry," I say bringing Meg forward a little. Why am I being so formal? Before they left Raoul and Gustave referred to Meg as Meg after their visit with her not the more formal address. I suppose it seemed too impersonal to continue to speak of her as almost a stranger. Raoul and Meg would have at times come across one another when Raoul visited Christine at the opera house. Just how friendly they might have been I try to tell myself is of little interest to me. It is in the past after all is it not?

Gallantly Raoul takes Meg's hand in his. His hesitation to place a kiss upon the back of her hand is infinitesimal and only a person watching very carefully would even notice the slight hesitation. It is not hard to see that Raoul is trying to do as Christine would want him to do, treat Meg as if nothing horrible had happened. Gustave is taking his cue from his father. This I can tell because the boy is watching this exchange very closely. It is not hard to see that he is of two minds how to behave in Meg's presence. He wants to do as his mother asked but anger at her loss is still burning inside of him. He wants to alleviate some of that anger in a physical way and Meg is a likely target.

If the woman we lost had been anyone else I believe it is safe to say Meg would not have survived very long after the bullet struck as most people are lead by revenge in cases such as this. Christine had a charitable heart filled with love and understanding. She would not want for any of the survivors to carry the heavy weight of guilt around with us. Even in her last dying moments her thoughts were of others. How could any of us deny a dying woman her last wish?

Graciously Meg curtsies lowering her lashes as a blush blooms upon her cheeks. I don't care to dwell on how experienced Meg is or how she came to have such knowledge. Picturing only one gentleman with her clenches my jaw painfully. If I were to learn Raoul had used Meg in such a fashion I cannot guarantee there won't be blood. Being the gentleman he is and loving Christine to distraction it is safe to conclude Raoul remained faithful to his wife until the day she died. His mistress, mind numbing drink, did not require baubles or gifts of perfume. All he needed was the cost of a bottle in his pockets to wallow in a degrading drunken stupor with the spent bottle laying in the gutter beside him.

Raoul pulls Gustave in front of him possessively and proudly places both hands on his son's shoulders. I want to tear them apart but I must refrain from such uncontrolled actions. With the passage of time it is conceivable I may learn to reign in my impulsive responses to matters that anger or even slightly disturb me.

"Meg you must remember my son Gustave?" again his pride comes through loud and clear. Is he laying claim to my son so pointedly to show me what role is to be mine in Gustave's life? Raoul wouldn't be so petty and the saner portion of my brain knows this but as always there is a voice inside my mind ready to throw obstacles in my path whether real or imagined.

Meg's smile dims a little I suppose because of all of us it is Gustave who lost the most when Christine died. He has a father to attend to the masculine side but children need a mother's tenderness and nurturing to be well rounded. I had neither father nor mother to teach me what it is to be a contributing member of humanity or what it meant to have family. A wolf raised in the wild would have more sense of family than I do. I must have had a mother and father of course but since they could not bear to have me for a son they rid themselves of the cumbersome task of raising such a horrid disappoint as me.

Unconsciously I stepped closer to Meg without any intention of doing so. Raoul does not miss my protective move. His raised brow I prefer to ignore. It is ridiculous for me to imagine Meg needs my protection from anything or anyone let alone an eleven year old boy.

"Mademoiselle it is good to see you looking so well," Gustave murmurs then casts a look upward at his father for approval. Raoul squeezes his shoulder and gives him a encouraging smile.

"Such a flattering statement is always appreciated by a woman. Raoul he will do you proud. Christine…Christine would be glad you both are doing well," Meg deliberately brings Christine into the conversation so as to test just how much they are both willing to pardon.

"It is alright Meg. Gustave and I have discussed his mother in depth over the last month. We still battle with some issues as you can imagine but for the most part we are in accord as to what Christine would have wanted to come out of her death. She…she wasn't a vindictive person even when she had cause to be," he glances at me leaving me in no doubt as to his meaning.

"Yes, that is true. Sometime, maybe not in the near future I would like for you and I to talk about…things. There is so much left unresolved but for now we must deal with the immediate issues, such as tea," she concludes on a teasing note breaking the tension developing in the air between us.

Contrary to what was expected we did carry on in a relatively relaxed fashion. Avoidance of issues that would be controversial were by mutual agreement skirted so as to let Gustave have a pleasant day. Willingly I let them lead the conversation as I studied my son thoroughly. So little time has passed and yet he has changed so much and I missed it. I resent that fact but won't let it color how I deal with Raoul. To offend Raoul is to alienate my son. My performance must have passed the test for Raoul invited me to lunch and an outing in the park two days hence. Time spent in the company of Gustave is worth any lowering of my pride.

Meg seemed in better spirits also. How much of that is due to both Raoul and Gustave treating her as they would anyone else or because Raoul paid especial attention to her. I did not compliment her on the lovely dress she wore, Raoul did. I took notice of the fresh bloom on her cheeks but did not comment how pretty and fresh she looked, Raoul did. I would have thought such familiar statements inappropriate for a gentleman to make of anyone other than a close relative, fiancée or a person in an intimate relationship with the woman. Is this further proof of a blossoming romance between Raoul and Meg? Christine is not yet cold in her grave. Perhaps they were meeting in secret behind our backs all along. Meg made regular trips back to Paris but steered clear of the de Chagnys or so she claimed. Was it all a ruse? Did Raoul and Meg plot Christine's murder planning it in such a way that it could be ruled an accidental death due to my negligence?

Paranoia, I recognize the signs but felt helpless to fend off those voices whispering that everyone plotted against me, would betray me without pause or regret. I listened to those voices for so long it became second nature to follow their dictates even when I knew what I would be doing was wrong. I wanted to throttle the both of them. I had all but silenced those voices and now they rear their ugly heads. I must not listen to them. Finding the truth will set me free. Did I not spy on thousands of people without getting caught or seen unless I wanted to give them a fright? A healthy dose of fear now and then kept nosy opera house employees from seeking out the resident ghost and phantom trying to prove or disprove they were one and the same.

I let none of my animosity show toward either Meg or Raoul. Tipping my hand would gain me nothing but being shut out of Gustave's life. Telling myself that I am not going to keep watch over my two adversaries so I might regain custody of my son is only half the truth. Of course if I find them to be duplicitous it would not be in my son's best interests for him to live with such a conniving deceitful person. Those labels can no longer be applied to me as I am a changed person. Conveniently I forget I had only just discovered how little I have really changed underneath the thin veneer I show the world.

Returning Gustave's wave I already begin to plan my next move. Visiting them will give me ample time to observe my quarry without drawing suspicion. If I find I have been duped there will be hell to pay not only for crimes against me but for what they may have needlessly done to Christine and Gustave. An old excitement of the hunt rises in me. The hunt, the kill, the satisfaction, which one will be my greater reward?

**A/N: Holidays are over. Back to normal life. At least as normal as can be when one is skirting poverty. Does anyone know if a woman can get emergency spousal support before the divorce is finalized? Can't get government aid as we are still considered married. Any suggestions would be greatly appreciated. PM me with anything you know. Thanks ahead of time.**


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: Last chapter didn't get many reviews. I hope it is only due to the holidays and recovering from all the hustle and bustle. If you read this please take and extra minute to review. Thanks to all who do read even if you don't review. I see the traffic and know it is being read so thank you very much. **

**Chapter Eighteen**

**Descent into Madness**

Little enjoyment came from my day with Gustave. I spent my time analyzing every word and move Raoul made. For all I bemoan having so little time with my son, now known to all as my nephew, I waste what time I do have sinking further into madness. At night I pace the floors dissecting fragments of conversation I have had with Meg. Slipping back into my old habits I even searched her room one afternoon when she went into town to run some errands. Raoul's home did not go without a visit from a dark cloaked figure one evening after he and Gustave left for an evening at the theatre.

Not so much as a scrap of paper gave me any clue that something linked Meg with the Vicomte. The less evidence I found the more I became convinced they were hiding something from me. The uncertainty ate away at me. Running on very little sleep takes its toll. My late night outings breaking into Raoul's home and standing outside on several occasions in the rain deplete my reserves. Feeling feverish and ill I will not take to my bed when there is a plot to uncover.

Meg pretends to worry about me. I dare not eat the soups or other special enticements she brings in case she intends to poison me. I am convinced she and Raoul are in some sort of pact. Either romantic or financial maybe even both.

Being ill I cannot visit Gustave in case I pass on my sickness to him. If I thought it would remove Raoul from our lives I'd make doubly sure I passed every blessed germ onto him. Tonight I feel particularly feverish coupled with a light head and weakness of limbs makes it hard to even dress for my intended nightly visit to my enemies camp.

When my boots defeat me I must give in and admit I won't be going anywhere other than my bed. Leaving my shirt unbuttoned I fall onto the cooling coverlet. Shivers shake my body. This is a bad sign. After so many years of near perfect health I am now on my second bout of illness in a relatively short span of time. It can't be from anything Meg slipped into my food. I have a secret stash of cheese, bread and wine hidden in the bottom of my wardrobe. Everything she brings me I put into a pan that I carry out to the dogs. So far none of them have died. Dogs have cast iron stomachs so that is not concrete proof of her innocence.

I try to lift my head from the tempting softness beneath me or risk having Meg discover me in this helpless condition. If I don't come down to eat or send word for a tray to be left outside my door Meg will see that as an invitation to invade my privacy. Has she never heard that curiosity killed the cat?

She bats aside my continuous digs at her along with my ill-temper. What must I do to drive her out of my home thus out of my life? Pangs of something I recognize but won't admit to feeling arise every time I let myself imagine Meg will forever and always be gone from my life. Why cannot anything be simple? A man desires a woman, he makes it known to her, she accepts his advances and they live happily ever after. I am tired of living with knowing for me there will not be a happy ever after. Doom and despair are my constant companions.

As predicted Meg gives my door a gratuitous tap before entering without an invitation and immediately begins to scold me as if I am Gustave's age rather than fully capable of having fathered her if I had been particularly precocious.

"Oh Erik, I knew something was wrong. I could feel it. I should have checked on you sooner. Please forgive my neglect. I have let my own affairs consume too much of my time," self reproach follows close behind her plea for pardon.

I cannot help but wonder what "affairs" kept her so preoccupied. Could it be a who rather than a what? If I weren't so damn ill I'd tell her to go to hell and on the way pick up her lover, that boy, Vicomte Raoul de Chagny.

Clothing begins to disappear. Damned if I can find the strength to care. Besides I have nothing she hasn't seen before. The wonder is she seems eager to see it again. There is something in that idea that I know should mean something to me but at the moment my mind feels like bubbling hot pudding. I have heard of people recovering from such intense fever with their brains left incapable of piecing together any cognitive words or basic functions. I would rather die. Is it Meg's plan to render me helpless, have me declared incompetent then take over my holdings?

Meg leaves me and I am grateful to be rid of her then immediately call her a deserting and unfeeling wretch for leaving me in my hour of need. A cool rag on my forehead mollifies me somewhat. Without opening my eyes I know it is Meg. I can smell the soap and a wisp of her perfume.

"Erik why didn't you come to me? You poor dear man why suffer in silence? I hope you didn't think I begrudged taking care of you before. I thought we settled all that nonsense," now she is all but cooing at me like she would an infant.

Words to revile her fail me. Besides to anger her will have her removing her heavenly touch. I may not trust her but the gentle glide of the cloth in her hand soothes me as no medicine could. As sick as I feel I want more of her caresses. My skin craves the feel of hers on my own. How ill does a man have to be before he is incapable of having lustful intentions? I must not have reached that threshold yet for my body is hard and ready to perform. I might possibly die during the aftermath but wouldn't the ecstasy be worth the pain? Somewhere amidst lust and seeking to appease it Christine's vision floats before me. How beautiful she looks. I am not sure but I think I raised my hand to touch her. Repeating her name over and over does not bring her any nearer to me.

A stirring of a breeze felt down below alerts me to just how exposed I am. Meg must see my blatant arousal but she gives no sign anything is amiss. Am I not adequate? Does she find me wanting? How do I compare to all of her other lovers? Does she compare me to Raoul and find me less of a man than that boy? I may be weak but jealousy rips through me with bitter ferocity. I want to demand she tell me the name of every man who defiled her so I may hunt them down and take them out of this world.

A kiss on my forehead snaps me out of my murderous daydream. "Erik you're burning up. Without a thermometer I can't be sure how high but I'd guess a few degrees over one hundred. Not dangerous yet but it warrants watching. I will be spending the night at your beside and it will do you no good to protest. I am staying and that is that," firmly stated words indeed.

Monsieur Libido is clapping his hands lustfully anticipating Meg joining me in this same bed. Knowing she did not mean she would be sharing my bed I nevertheless indulge my wicked fantasy. How lurid they are too. I am glad Christine has left me. I wouldn't want her to know what a lecherous beast I am.

While ill my mind plays tricks on me. Reality meshes with dreams. Christine is with me again. I know it is her by the sound of her voice. I want to weep for my good fortune to see my beloved once more. I will be grateful to have her for however long she will stay. We need not speak to one another. We know what the other is thinking. Drifting in and out of restless sleep Christine's face fades to be replaced by Meg's. I can't be certain but I think I have struck out at Meg in my delirium. A soothing voice lulls me until I stop thrashing about. Why do I not still mourn my beloved? Meg is a witch. She has bewitched me.

How long I passed from one bout of fevered meanderings to another it is hard to gauge when ones brain feels like I imagine fried meat would feel if it could feel at all. Such nonsensical comparisons prove I am not myself.

After many interminable days and nights my fever is broken. A natural sleep restores some of my vitality. Without looking I know Meg is sitting at my bedside waiting for me to awaken.

Recalling Christine coming to me I quickly glance around the room. I regret the sudden movement when nausea is followed by my head spinning. As soon as the room settles back into its proper place I will demand that Meg leave me. I have no need for her services unless she is willing to assuage my desires. Guilt engulfs me when I recall Christine. What is wrong with me? I would demand fidelity from my beloved yet I betray her memory so soon after her passing. Is that the level of my devotion, a few months?

I cannot remain indifferent to Meg or keep the promise I made to love Christine forever. Temptation must be removed lest I commit an egregious wrong.

Knowing how cruel I must be does not sway me to stop what I know I must do. Meg must learn to hate me. If I am vile toward her, whatever puny emotional attachment she claims to have will evaporate under my constant barrage of cruel attacks on Meg's misguided affections. I am still uncertain if she and Raoul had any clandestine meetings or not. It doesn't matter. It cannot matter.

"Go Meg. Go now. Your presence is unwelcome. I cringe when I think of your tainted hands touching me. How many Meg? How many other men have you tended with such gentle caresses? Did you climb into their beds before the deal was struck hoping for a proper payment when the deed was done?" pure venom slips from my tongue.

All color has gone from her face. A quiver of her lips is the only clue that tears are not far from falling. Her posture has stiffened to ramrod rigidity. In my mind I can see myself striking her, cracking her skin, then it splinters into thousands of tiny pieces that form a heap resembling useless rubbish.

"If I wanted a whore I know where to find one and have funds to purchase their services. I only agreed to keep you on so that I could keep an eye on you. How can I be sure you won't try to kill my son again or me? Raoul I will kill myself free of charge," mentioning Gustave is sure to dig at an unhealed wound. Not enough time has passed for her to have rid herself of her guilt. God knows I haven't.

"I will not fight you anymore Erik. It is too late to hire a cab and I won't trouble you with transportation. I'll be gone before you come down for breakfast. I wouldn't want to taint you anymore than I already have," bursting into sobs Meg runs from the room. At last I have broken her. I should feel triumphant. All I feel is a burning in my stomach accompanied by a tight ache in my chest.

I want to call her back and tell her I made a mistake. It was my illness making me say such horrible things. This cruelty is not something Christine would condone. A woman who relieves her murderer of all blame would not have used words certain to inflict deep wounds. I fear I have wounded myself worse than anything I may have done to Meg.

Throughout the night I writhe in agony of soul and body. My fever has returned I am sure as punishment for my recent sins. There are no soft hands to ease the aches, no lips to test my fiery skin, no soft comforting voice saying soothing words that calm me. Suffering is something I should be used to but strangely I am not. Am I not entitled to expect some of life's pleasures without having to pay such high costs at the expense of my immortal soul?

Beseeching Christine to come to me is a fruitless effort. Why should she bring solace to the one giving so much pain to her sister? I did it spitefully and for my own peace of mind not because I didn't know better. Other times in my life situations forced me to act hastily. Surrendering control of my faculties allowed me to pursue Christine at all costs with a clear conscience until sanity returned. I am not insane at the moment only physically ill.

Racking my brain I search for a way to fix this horrendous mistake I have made. Mercifully God answers my pleas for help. Thunder proceeds the lightening and then the heavens open up in a downpour guaranteeing the roads will be impassable for the next few days.

Night gives way to day with no let up of the rain. Meg of course does not come knocking on my door. I do find a tray outside my room which will remain uneaten. The poached egg and dry toast is what an invalid should eat but I have no appetite. Dressing is an unnecessary endeavor while I am in my present condition. My nightwear will have to do. Instead of a note I wobble my way down the stairs with my robe flapping behind me. I couldn't even be bothered to tie the damn belt. Several times my legs almost give way beneath me. Perhaps this was not such a good idea. Several times during the night I rushed to my water closet to relieve my stomach of its meager contents. It is still a possibility I may do so again. If I disgrace myself in front of Cook I won't take the loss of my dignity with grace.

Cook is nearly frightened to death when she turns around and sees me standing directly behind her. She avoids coming to my room for a reason. My mask distresses her just as my steadfast demand for secrecy give rise to her suspicions I am a guilty man. Just what I am guilty of she is not sure. If she knew just how right she is her days as my servant would be numbered.

"Good Lord Sir you gave me a fright. What's wrong? Has something happened to Miss Meg," there is real concern in her question. My welfare is totally dismissed while near panic ensues at a hint of some calamity befalling Meg. I'll give Cook the benefit of a doubt and assume her concern is because she doesn't want to be left with the task of taking care of me personally while Meg is on the mend. I hate to disabuse her but if I don't get back to my bed they'll be scraping me off the floor.

"As far as I know Mademoiselle Giry is fine," blatantly I lie. "I wish for you to convey to the Mademoiselle that the weather does not permit safe travel so she must postpone her trip."

"Why the devil couldn't you just walk down the hall and tell her yourself?" now she is glaring at me suspiciously. For all her fright earlier she looks capable of doing some bodily harm if my answer does not please her.

Not giving me time to make a reply she accuses me by her tone as well as her question, "What have you done now?" Her hands find her hips. Must I remind her I am her employer? I pay her salary not the other way around? I liked her better when she showed proper fear of me.

"Not that I am obliged to answer your accusation but I will. Meg is finding it stifling to be cooped up here away from all the city has to offer. If the rain hadn't come she would have already been gone. As it is I cannot risk harm coming to someone just to appease a flighty woman's whims." May God not strike me dead for telling such bold lies, for lies they are or for the most part.

"Now if the interrogation is over I wish for you to inform Mademoiselle Giry that at the earliest opportunity I will arrange transport for her," my explanation does not appear to satisfy the overly inquisitive woman and I am not left long without proof of her doubts.

"Master Erik, I hold my tongue over a lot of things but I'll not let you cause Miss Meg one moment of upset without comment. All this "Mademoiselle Giry" business. Pish posh! Confess your sins young man or I shall set about your head with my spoon."

She dare threaten me and with a wooden spoon of all things? The woman is clearly delusional. My illness must have passed to her. I shall forgive her this trespass this one time. Really I just don't want to be bothered with interviewing a long line of women when I have a perfectly satisfactory one right here or she would be if she hadn't taken such a shine to Meg. Her disloyalty is all Meg's fault.

"If you must know Meg and I have had a disagreement and she wishes to return to the city. As I care neither way, whether she stays or goes I made no protest to the contrary," more lies piled on a stack of lies. One could argue that we did have a disagreement just not in the way I am implying.

Turning her back to me Cook dismisses me as if I am an unruly child beneath her notice. Her back does present a tempting target or her plump neck. In seconds I could put an end to her disregard for respect toward me. I must make a point to keep my employees in a constant state of fear lest they all become overly confident I am a benign threat.

"Well I suppose I could speak to her when she comes down for breakfast," she tries to mollify me.

This cannot wait until later. Meg will have packed and after being insulted by me she will quite possibly be foolish enough to chance the hazardous conditions just to remove herself from my monstrous presence.

"I would prefer you deliver my message now. Also instruct Mademoiselle Giry I expect her to join me for lunch," it sounds more threat than an invitation to share an amiable meal.

Feeling a lengthy argument about to ensue abruptly I turn nearly tripping during my hasty retreat. My fast getaway turns into a hand and knee crawl up the stairs. My legs and body revolt at such harsh treatment. All I need is to fall face first in my soup bowl at lunchtime for my humiliation to be complete. By the time I reach my room I can hardly put one foot in front of the other. Is my fate to be death before I can mend the breach between Meg and I? Being ill tends to make one overly dramatic. Logically I know I am not at deaths door or he at mine unless I am remiss in taking proper care. That might be a point in my favor when I try to get Meg to stay. Would she not stay to nurse me back to health if I truly faced imminent death? What if she is already gone?

Fearing the worst I avoid glancing out the window. I haven't heard anything coming from the courtyard. Surely the horses would make a protest being out is such nasty weather. I know I would. No sound gives me hope I have not lost what may well be my final chance to make amends for what I have said and done to Meg. Not just recently but all the past years I took her for granted and did not see her as a person in her own right. I looked upon her as a pawn in my master plan, a means to an end. I don't know exactly what role I want her to play in my life but I cannot let her go without exploring this fledgling connection we have. It isn't the same as mine was to Christine but I do know the pangs of the heart that signal deep emotional yearnings for another.

Falling weakly onto my bed it is too tiring to lift my feet onto the bed or turn over. Hopefully I will awaken before I smother myself. Sleep must have claimed me for the next thing I knew the mantle clock struck one o'clock. Time to dress and brave the never-ending flights of stairs. Illness adds several hundred stairs in my feverish mind.

My earlier expedition sapped what little energy I had leaving me a shaky weak kneed man only wanting to stay in bed. I must beard the lion in his den or the lioness in this case. It is to be hoped that my mind that feels like Swiss cheese at the moment will retain enough lucidity to convey a convincing argument for Meg to stay. I pray that is so.


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Oh my dear readers did I get a fright when I went into my documents and my chapter 19 wasn't there. I looked in my FreeaAgent storage device and it wasn't there either. I then set about trying to rewrite it. All night I worried over that chapter. Finally I crossed my fingers and checked on one of my USBs that I keep some of my writing on. Blessedly it was there. Thank goodness as I would have had trouble reintroducing this new shady character. Enjoy reading folks. **

**Chapter Nineteen**

**The Worm in the Apple**

Unsteadily I enter the dining room. Meg is already seated drinking a cup of tea. I feel in the need for something stronger so detour to my liquor cabinet. When I manage to snag a bottle I feel triumphant to have been victorious over such a tremendous task. In my present state taking a step seems to be a major accomplishment. Perhaps my choice of libation is faulty but I need something to prop me up or perhaps it is Dutch courage I seek so I can face Meg without cowardly retreating back to my room.

Meg eyes the bottle with disapproval. Normally I am not much of a drinker but today is an exception. I need the bolster to my convictions liquor may give me. It might be false courage but just now it is all I have so Dutch courage it is. My nerve seems to have deserted me. Slumping down inelegantly into my chair I shakily pour a generous amount into my cup then pour some tea from the pot so conveniently close at hand.

I would prefer coffee but tea will do. Too much thought and energy would be required to ring for Cook. Besides, after our last encounter she may well poison me herself. Even these few random thoughts cause my head to spin in an alarming fashion. I do hope my face isn't turning as green as I feel. Grabbing a piece of toast I bite into it then swallow after only a couple of chews. A few bites later I do begin to feel better. Perhaps I shouldn't have foregone eating my breakfast.

I feel Meg's gaze on me several times as we finish our meal in silence. Is she to leave then without making one comment? Did I really expect her to speak to me other than to curse me to hell? Meg has no idea of my changed frame of mind. It is up to me to enlighten her. I am not one who finds it easy to admit any wrongdoing with ease, either to myself or others. I can find justification for my actions whether they have real merit or not.

Time is slipping by must faster than I would like. Searching my mind only one solution comes to mind. Before I can examine the repercussions of what I will say my mouth begins to speak with more conviction and firmness than I would have thought possible in my present circumstances.

"Meg, after careful consideration I am obliged to demand you fulfill the terms of your contract to the letter. There are still two weeks remaining. If you should decide to default I will have no choice but to take you to court. I shall seek not only the cost of the remaining two weeks but also punitive damages, after all you are leaving a man nearly on his deathbed to go and do heaven knows what," I disregard the reminder inside my head that it was I who tossed her out not she who demanded release and also as an apology it falls short of the mark. Where is my eloquent vocabulary when I need it?

"Erik don't be ridiculous. You gave me my marching orders," her words are said calmly contrary to what I would expect.

"Ah but there is nothing in writing to confirm such a demand," I declare as I search my fogged brain for the truth of this statement. Did I make a written demand? I can't remember which proves I am still far too ill to be left to my own devices.

Meg stares at me for a few seconds searching for what I don't know then lowers her gaze. I do believe this is to hide what she is thinking damn her. If ever I needed to know what someone was thinking it is now. Curse this debilitating illness.

"Erik I suppose I must concede to your wishes," calmly stated without a hint of anger or resentment. What trickery does she have in mind? Is she happy to have this second chance to rid the world of me permanently? I cut that line of thinking before I descend any further into the dark pit of paranoia.

"Well…I am glad you see the validity of my argument," I feel deflated after girding my loins so to speak for a battle. Not a shot was fired.

"Yes Erik, I realize how useless it is to argue such valid points. I must concede your superiority," again the calm tone. In fact if I am not delirious again I believe I hear a hint of a smile in her voice.

"As you say my position has merit. A contract is a contract. You will fulfill it to the letter of the law," now I am just being boastful.

"Yes Erik, as you say, to the letter of the law," now she sounds as if she is mocking me.

"Good. Fine." This is the best I can do? Genius has surely failed me. I have been reduced to one word sentences. It is a start albeit a rocky one.

I can see no duplicity showing in her face or eyes when I catch her gaze for a moment. Something flashes in her eyes but is gone before I can read what it is. The hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth draws my gaze longer than is proper. Wiping ones mouth with a napkin should not stir lustful fantasies yet I find I am helpless as such disgraceful scenarios enter my mind. Meg must have noticed the desire in my eyes for she blushes. She doesn't look away but holds me locked in a silent duel. This is madness of a different kind one that might burn us both to ash.

Howard comes in to ask if we would like anything more. I don't but cannot find it in me to end this encounter. Nothing substantial has happened yet I find it unbearable to have Meg leave me even knowing it is only for a short while and she will still be in my home. I am turning into a mindless love struck Lothario. I cannot say I mind.

I stand when Meg indicates she will be leaving the dining room. I command my body to obey my instructions to stay upright without disgracing me in front of Meg. For a moment she does hesitate as if she might say something further but must have decided to leave things as they are.

Once I am sure Meg has gone upstairs I ring the bell and ask as humbly as I can for Howard's help back to my room. Without him this chair would become my new resting place. I have overtaxed myself. Sacrificing my health is a small price to pay to get what I want. Of course if I am dead that defeats my intentions.

Away from Meg doubts begin to flood my mind. Conversations and scenes I am not sure have happened flash before my eyes. The disjointed kaleidoscope merges with things I know are true with things I am unsure about. If I am to have any peace I must give myself over completely to what my heart wants. Being alone is not something I crave anymore. I cannot go back to the creature I was before. Where do we go from here?

First things first. If I am to be of any use I will need to get all my faculties back to working one hundred percent. It may try my patience but I'll need to depend on others to a degree I find abhorrent especially when I'd rather appear strong, attractive, well as attractive as I can be and utterly sane. The last I might aspire to but may never achieve. One can live and hope.

Despite wanting to rush things along I know intellectually matters cannot be settled in a mere few days. I chafe under such restrictions but nevertheless manage to look and act as I perceive a normal man, such as Raoul, would look and act. Meg blossoms under my constant subtle compliments. I dare not go overboard thus raising her suspicions. She has more reason to doubt me than I do her and look where that lead me.

Three days of constant downpour gave way to sunshine and fresh air. Perhaps now would be a good time to strengthen the relationship between Meg and Gustave. If Meg is to be with me she and Gustave must at least tolerate one another. He is always polite but not overly interested in furthering their acquaintance. Meg does not appear to feel slighted. On one of our return trips home I subtly work the conversation around to Gustave or maybe not so subtle.

"Gustave has grown so much. I sometimes think if I blink he will no longer be a child but a man," a pang of what must be regret is felt in my chest. Because of my actions I missed so many days of his life I cannot get back. I'll not waste one minute more if I can help it. The same goes for Meg. Wherever this new adventure leads us at least I will give it a fair chance.

"Yes, he is quite a little man. You know, I see much of you in him but Raoul as well," she says thoughtfully. She must have sensed my disquiet for she quickly amends, "I mean physically and mentally he is so like you as I would imagine you were as a boy of eleven, your strange and irregular upbringing aside. What I meant is he has Raoul's mannerisms and gentle ways but his mind is much like yours, sharp, inquisitive and wanting to see what lies ahead."

It still bothers me that Raoul is the major influence in Gustave's life. As Gustave's recognized father that is as it should be but it does not make the bitter pill taste any sweeter. Raoul has come a long way. I can see that. While I descended into madness he shed his demons to become the man Gustave will need to mold our son into a man.

"I suppose I don't mind being referred to as Uncle Erik. You know, he called me Uncle Erik no less than thirty times during our visit. Such a forgiving child. By rights he should find little in me to admire and yet he finds an abundance of things of interest."

For a moment I thought she would not take my lead but eventually she did. "I see what you mean about Gustave. He is polite to me without being overly so. He doesn't gush thereby pointing out the fact he is forcing his kindness. He is acting as a normal boy would toward a woman who is still essentially a stranger to him and one who did take his mother's life even if unintentionally. A person doesn't get over that instantly. My mother is not gone in the same way Christine is and yet I feel her loss every day."

Turning her head so she could look at me directly she asks, "Erik do you suppose one can ever truly forgive oneself for something so tragic?"

Now I am uncomfortable. I have so many sins that need to be pardoned. The gravest of errors in judgment was the part I played in Christine's sorrowful ending. Easier to gain God's pardon than your own is my conclusion. Refusing to answer I hope she will drop the subject, one I mistakenly opened. As if attuned to my mood Meg enjoys the rest of our trip in silence.

From that day we spent more time together than apart. We grew comfortable with one another and if not spoken aloud I feel it is silently declared how we feel about one another. There are times when our glances lock and we say more in that brief look than we do in words. I have even been so bold as to link her arm with mine as we walked in the garden. Someday soon I may chance a kiss.

One afternoon I arrived home to find a strange buggy parked out front. The only visitors I receive are Raoul and my solicitor if he needs to contact me urgently. Having just left the man and knowing such a cheap vehicle would not be owned by Raoul there is only one explanation, some fool has decided to invade my privacy. Worry about what he may be doing to Meg has panic guiding my actions as she is nearly alone in the house. Only Howard and Cook are close at hand. The outside employees do not live on the premises.

Thrusting the door open it crashes against the plaster wall leaving a spider web of cracks behind. That damage can be repaired while damage to a young woman…I know so very well what damage a man can inflict on a trusting innocent. For all her experience I have ascertained that Meg is still innocent underneath all her outward sophistication. Contrary to what one might expect she has simple tastes.

I hear voices murmuring from behind the closed door creating unwanted pictures of some man overpowering Meg by brute force. Blood boiling and heart pumping with sheer rage I burst through the door expecting to see Meg about to be ravaged but what I do find is a very handsome, very young and fit gentleman sitting ever so comfortably in _my chair_, the chair I had especially made for me as I am taller than the average man. This…this interloper seems far too comfortable _in my chair_.

Meg looks flushed and guilty as sin about something. What I don't know yet but I will if I have force it out of her…or him…preferably him. Nerves have locked her speech inside her throat as she continues to look from me to the gentleman then the floor. Is she hoping to conjure an escape route through the floor? If that is her plan she must move to the far right of the fire place. That is where my trap door is located in this room.

"Ah, Erik…I hope you don't mind if I call you Erik. I feel as if I know you already. Meg speaks of you often. Isn't that so Meg?" the stranger looks to Meg for confirmation. The ill-bred clod does not even rise to greet me in my own home. Most people would consider that a slap in the face. I take it to an even greater offence level.

Catching my runaway temper I mentally grab hold of my emotions giving me a chance to consider his words. Is there a hint of a threat in that last sentence? Only a slight shiver and shaking hands give away Meg is not at all at ease. Is it due to my unexpected early return from my business errands? I must know who this man is and what business he has here.

"Yes Heinrich." Meg practically whispers. If she tears at that handkerchief any longer only shreds of lace will remain.

"Come, come Meg. Don't be shy. Erik will think I am an unwelcome visitor. Please be so kind as to introduce us and let him know I am a harmless simple man coming to pay a visit to my _very good friend_," he all but comes right out and declares they are lovers. Clenching my hands is all that stops me from committing murder. If the first doesn't appease me I may commit a second. First his then hers. Gory vivid pictures show me what I am capable of doing if I let out my inner demon.

Meg mumbles an introduction but I manage to catch the name of the man I feel certain I will be killing very shortly.

"Heinrich is it? I ask and he nods graciously. I want to rip his head from his shoulders but instead I ask with false calm, "Might I know your surname? I like to know as much as I can about those visiting my home," casual words that hide a very murderous rage.

He waves his hand as if his name is of little consequence as he begins to sidestep my enquiry by saying, "Erik, Erik, Erik, let us not stand on ceremony. After all I will be a frequent visitor here. Meg has informed me of your association. I feel we won't be breaking any social barriers if we come and go through the front door. Meg has assured me you think of her as family. In time I hope to persuade Meg to join with me so we may begin our own family."

Jezebel, liar, betrayer, temptress, Delilah and Eve, every name belonging to a betrayer of mankind and now Meg Giry can be added thus joining her sister betrayers. Instant death is too good for them. I will have plenty of time to plot their eventual downfall. Such suffering I will bring to them they will wish for a quick death, even beg for it but mercy shall be in my hands and I shall not be merciful. To say anything is to bring humiliation to me. If Meg can pretend that nothing intimate has passed between us then so can I, even if it kills me.

"How long have you known Meg and where did you meet? I don't recall seeing you on the boardwalk. I am usually very good with faces and voices. I don't remember seeing or hearing you," my suspicions are not outright expressed but hinted at to let him know I am not a fool to be taken lightly.

He moves closer to Meg and wraps his arm around her shoulder. He must have squeezed too hard because Meg winces and tries to pull away. Nothing about her body language indicates she wants this man or even likes him. Surely she knows if he is trying to foist unwanted attention on her all she needs to do is tell me and I will take care of the problem. Dread and fear are two emotions I am well acquainted with and can almost smell them in the air around Meg.

"Oh, Meg and I have known one another off and on for quite some time. I travel a lot so we only get together when I'm in town. As I was telling Meg when you came in I am through with living out of a suitcase and will be looking in the area for a place of my own. If something crosses your path do let me know won't you Erik?" he says with practiced ease. He is a shyster but I have no proof. He is too smooth and slippery looking like an eel. I have dealt with men of his ilk many times in my life. His type lives by their wits and will slit their own mother's throat if there is profit in it for them.

Avoiding revealing his full name is another clue. Wanted men do not like to give out personal information. Does the fool suffer under the misapprehension that I won't question Meg as soon as he steps outside my front door? Tomorrow I will hire a private detective to follow Meg's…what is he to Meg? He claims they have a personal relationship yet I have not heard her mention him nor did Madame and she would know if her daughter had been involved in a serious liaison. I am itching to toss Heinrich out on his ear but it is a well known fact you can catch more flies with honey than vinegar.

His visit lasts only a few more minutes then he conveniently remembers a prior engagement. He avoided giving away any real information about himself even though I asked question after question in rapid fire succession. He is clever but not clever enough. Conflicting signals are coming from Meg. Her words declare they are longstanding friends yet her actions tell another story.

I only just got warmed up asking Meg some pertinent questions when she bolted from the room mumbling some excuse about having a splitting headache and not feeling well. It could be a ruse to avoid me or she could be genuinely ill . I may have passed on my illness to her and it took a while to incubate in her system. I'll give her the benefit of the doubt.

Despite my urge to throttle her I'll not let myself sink down into the oblivious black pit of misery and obsession again. It hurts to know Meg doesn't trust me enough to tell me the truth. Of course there may be no truth to tell in which case she will come perilously close to feeling the full on-slot of my wrath.

As I walked around the room after Meg had gone things seemed off. It took me a few minutes of investigation to discover several small but valuable objects were missing from around the room. A small silver matchbox from the mantle, a gold pen I gave to myself one Christmas and a container of odd pearls I kept on the corner of the desk to use as a paperweight. All small objects that would fit say, in a mans jacket pocket? This man does not know who he is stealing from. The objects don't hold any real value for me but Meg…Meg I have yet to categorize. Crossing me is a dangerous game, one many have regretted and paid the price.

Heinrich is like a worm in an apple, an unwelcome intruder that must be cut out before he spoils the whole of the tasty fruit. I will play along biding my time then strike when the time is right. Maybe I'll use Heinrich as bait the next time I go fishing, say off the Atlantic coast?


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty**

**Casting All Doubts Aside**

Our Mr. Heinrich Grueber is a very crafty man. He did nothing out of the ordinary for a whole week. In fact the only crime I could say with any certainty he committed was to take valuable items from around my home. I kept silent about knowing anything had gone missing. Perhaps some part of me hoped Meg would come forward. Every day she grew more pale and restless. Both Howard and Cook made it their business to inform me Meg ate very little and walked about the house until the wee hours of the morning. Naturally they think I am the culprit.

I have known of Meg's ghostly turns around the house since her first night of meandering aimlessly about. Being a light sleeper I knew as soon as her door opened. I didn't interfere for I believed this was Meg's way of wrestling with whatever troubled her conscience. Countless nights I myself have spent wandering aimlessly trying to outrun some demon from my past.

I am at a loss to know what to do with the current situation. Did I misinterpret Meg's reaction to me? Over the next two weeks she is in that man's presence. Like a dog trailing after its hunted prey I follow Meg and Heinrich to the opera and the hotel restaurant afterward.

It cuts me to the quick to watch as he fondles her, whispers in her ear and listen to the happy tinkling of her laughter. Looking closely I can see how deceptive her happiness is. Meg does not initiate any of the intimate touches or seem to enjoy them in the least. In fact the time she shrugged off his hand from her shoulder for a moment it looked as if he was about to strike her. Indeed it is my belief that only being surrounded by other patrons of the restaurant saved Meg from an assault. Clever Heinrich would not be so complacent if he knew how close to meeting his maker he truly was during this time. A man can only take so much before he will snap. I am one whose threshold of tolerance is much lower than normal.

Daily I gave Meg ample opportunity to confess that she was under some pressure from Heinrich or even a victim of blackmail but silence is the only answer I received. I went out of my way to court her in the way other men do. I lay myself open to her rejection yet she still stayed silent about the true nature of her relationship with that man. Our contract aside we both know as a threat it held no merit as Meg could have easily paid the sum I demanded without toppling her financial stability. I made it my business to inspect her financial documents myself. I even went so far as to break into her banking facility to view her personal accounts. The ease with which I gained entrance to the building and the safe itself alerts me that I must remove my own finances to a safer establishment.

My investigation of Heinrich provided me with his full name and a vague history. He is as careful about not leaving evidence of his existence behind as I am. Only a sketchy past came to light. What I did find confirmed much of what I suspected all along. The man was not what he would have society believe he is. Again the parallel of our lives does not escape me. I want to find something so heinous that what he has done surpasses anything from my own list of bad deeds. Since I have done everything short of crimes against women that is where my focus will be. Studying Meg in his presence it becomes clear to me that there is something being held over Meg's head to gain her compliance.

To test my theory I continue to seek out her company and find her eager to sit with me in the evenings discussing recent productions being performed at several theatres. When she asks me to sing and play for her one evening I cannot help but be flattered but wonder if she makes this request solely to stroke my ego so I will be lulled into complacency. I may be flattered but I am not so easily won over nor will I be swayed from closely watching anyone coming into my home. A man's home is sacred and should be a place he can be free to do as he wishes as long as he harms no one else in the process.

I must give credit where credit is due. My household affairs are in capable hands. Cook is happier and when Cook is happy everyone enjoys culinary delights fit for the connoisseur's palate. The only fly in the ointment is that blasted man posing as a gentleman. He has the outer veneer down convincingly but anyone who has studied their fellow man thoroughly as I have can see the flaws in his performance. Playing a gentleman's role is not the same as being a true born to the role man like Raoul for instance. Now Raoul, he is a gentleman through and through. Gustave is walking the same path. Some day he will be a fine example of manhood. I try to fit into that niche but for me it was too late to cultivate that special air that surrounds those born into the hierarchy of society. I too have a thin veneer that presents a convincing performance of a gentleman. Underneath is the true me. I am what circumstances have made me mixed with a real desire to evolve into something else, something better. For the most part I believe I am succeeding.

It pains me that Meg will not trust me with whatever troubles her or perhaps it is only a figment of my imagination that she holds a plea in her eyes whenever we are alone. Could I give credence to things that are only twisted in my mind to appear as I want them? Turmoil eats away at my sanity. I want to destroy everything in my path, throttle those who deny me what I want. It is hard to know Meg toyed with my affections as she did. Did she do it so that she could gain my pardon for what she did to Christine? Were her declarations of love for me all those years all a ruse to gain my trust? Was this an elaborate scheme to mete out revenge on me? Is this a case of 'hell hath no fury like a woman scorned'?

Although she doesn't seem to want to leave me neither is it apparent that she wishes to stay. That fiend makes no demands that she leave my home. Were it me courting Meg I'd demand she leave the home of gentleman not related to her, one of an age to take advantage of her vulnerability as a single woman without family or friends to give support. It is a wonder we are not a hot topic for the gossip minded people spouting morality when their own houses are made of glass.

Every time Meg walks out the door leaving me alone in my misery a little of my vitality is drained out of me. This is too reminiscent of the time I watched Raoul and Christine fall deeper and deeper in love. Standing on the sidelines listening to their intimate declarations of forever tore me apart. Witnessing their passionate kisses drove daggers into my heart and built the fire in my brain driving me to do horrible things. I can feel that same fever building even now. My lust for her is turning to lust for vengeance. How dare God place another man in my path to a woman I desire for my own?

Sleep is an impossibility on the nights Meg leaves to spend time with her new beau. If this keeps up I shall be buying new glassware as numerous glasses have found there way to walls, the fireplace and through my front window. Alcohol consumption isn't a method I used before to numb my pain except perhaps a few nights when Christine would not leave me in peace.

I have not ever been overly impressed with looking at my own reflection in a mirror and less so now. My face is becoming gaunt due to little nourishment and even less sleep. The human body needs both to maintain good health.

Pathetic fool that I am I cannot resist going in to Meg's room to lift her robe to my face so I can inhale her essence. A strand of hair from her brush finds its way to the inside of my pocket watch. I lie in her bed in the spot that I have watched her sleep when I could not bare to take to my bed without one last glimpse of her. Am I obsessing about her? Likely I am, no, most assuredly I am but I am helpless to do anything other than act the love struck fool.

Why does she torture me this way? Could she not just declare herself in love with this other man and release me from her spell? If I knew for certain I stood no chance with her I might then be able to let her go. It will hurt like hell but at least I'd know. All this uncertainty is shredding what little self-esteem I have remaining. I don't want to be doomed to live in solitude. I no longer crave it nor do I need it. I have a life of normalcy, or what one in my situation considers normal. Normal is subjective in any case.

The night I stood on the balcony overlooking the drive I wasn't prepared to have my very soul thrust into hell. The carriage pulled up and Heinrich stepped down first then turned to help Meg down as a gentleman would. Meg hurried to the steps but he grabbed her pulling her forcefully to him as he claimed her in a savage kiss. She did not seem to respond nor did she struggle to be freed. As his hand fondled her breast I silently bade her to shove him away and decry him an ungentlemanly beast but disappointment once again was my reward.

Wetness on my cheek at first I thought was raindrops but the burning in my eyes and nose were the signs of tears. I weep for what could have been. I weep for poor unhappy Erik. Once a great Phantom now reduced to eating humble pie and being dealt the leftovers from the plates of other's lives. I have nothing to call my own that gives me pleasure or can love me in return. Even Gustave I must share. Love is not for me. I must come to grips with that once and for all.

The only way to save face is to coldly push Meg out of my life. That should be easy as lately she has been occupied by someone else giving little thought to me. She shall be as a stranger. How hard can it be? Later I would find it to be much harder than I imagined.

**A/N: Awe poor Erik. Don't fret though as we all know how resourceful he can be once he climbs out of his river of tears. Lots of lovely reviews would be nice. **


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter Twenty-one**

**Broken Vows **

As the fates would have it my decision to be cold and uncommunicative with Meg gets derailed by none other than Meg. Heinrich sent her a note informing her he would be gone for a few days. From the moment Meg opened the envelope it was as if a cloud evaporated and the sun came out. From her reaction one would think she had been given a reprieve just at the hour before the execution was to be carried out.

Animation colored her cheeks as she spoke about hoping to take a ride through the countryside and perhaps enjoy a picnic. I nearly choked when she asked me to join her. Genuine eagerness for a positive answer looked back at me as I examined her for any signs of deception. Only innocent youth stared back at me. At the moment she appeared to be far younger than her years. Vitality returned to her and it spread to me.

Our time together let me see a part of Meg she kept hidden, a part I wanted to see again and again. The woman spending time with me did not reconcile with the treacherous betrayer I thought I saw before. Something in that scenario did not ring true. Not even the most accomplished actress could pull off the change in Meg so convincingly without there being some truth in it. Foolhardy or not I let myself be reeled in once again. Honesty forces me to admit I wanted to believe Meg was being blackmailed rather than willingly spent time with another man, a man more handsome and much younger than I.

Time slipped past in an idealistic haze. We needn't openly declare anything right now as everything was still too new and unsure. We were only just finding our feet once again so we could feel comfortable with one another. Now that I knew that things were not as they appeared I made it my business to find out what exactly Heinrich held over Meg one way or another. My emotional state would not make this easy. I would have to fight off my impulsive nature in order to get to the bottom of things.

If Meg proves duplicitous my life will not be worth living. My soul will shrivel and die. A heart can only take so much battering before it is damaged beyond the point that it can continue on. If this turns out to be anything other than Meg being forced into betraying me I won't want to live another day. I'll write my goodbye's to Gustave then end my misery once and for all. Finally I have reached the end of my endurance so that I have the necessary strength to end the life God gave me. So far it hasn't been much of a life. As I have so often noted about my emotions I tend to overdramatize everything. My creative mind at work I assume.

After only a few idealic days the dark cloud of doom returned sending word he would be arriving tomorrow. Conventiently for him tomorrow is the day I do business in the city. Meg's return to the sad eyed creature from a few days ago spurs me on to come up with a solution to our problem. As she clung to me tonight I wanted to reassure her in words that I would protect her but instead I hoped the tight way I held her against me told her all she needed to know. I can't say anything to her about what I am thinking lest she give me away to Monsieur Grueber.

It was time I brought out my old skills for finding out information others did not wish to depart to me. This morning I left as usual for my Wednesday meeting at the solicitor's office but this time I leapt from the carriage so I could walk back to the house unnoticed. I planned to be in a hiding place in whatever room Meg and her friend conducted their business. There is nothing romantic between them. No flowers arrive, there are no intimate dinners only the meals shared at a restaurant with hordes of other diners around or an evening at the theatre with several other questionable people Meg is not acquainted with as far as I know. Would not a man want to be alone with a woman he wanted to court, even a proper gentleman? Children born on the wrong side of a blanket weren't found underneath a cabbage patch. They had to be conceived before proper vows were taken.

Any normal healthy male would give his right arm to spend time alone with Meg and yet here is this man who professed he would be courting her letting opportunity after opportunity pass without taking advantage of his supposed connection to Meg. He sends no little trinkets, nothing to show his intent. There is a menacing shadow in any room he occupies. Evil knows evil. I recognize a fellow monster. I live in hope mine is caged and will only be let loose when in dire need of such darkness.

Knowing the layout of my home it is easy for me to slip in unnoticed. I have to use the secret passageway that I added within my walls to search out what room they are in. Dread filled me that it would be Meg's bedroom. Such profound relief overtook me yet I won't admit just how worried I was that Meg might take her lover or supposed lover to her bed in my very own residence. If that happened I'd need to set a match to the place as I couldn't bear to set foot inside it ever again. Eventually I locate them in the same parlor we had been in on his last visit. Does Meg not trust him enough to acquaint him with any more of my home? There are several sitting rooms that are more comfortable and offer a pleasant view.

Settling in comfortably against the wall I listen in on their conversation without one iota of shame to be felt within me. Unless they become mimes I will know everything that passes between them. What I will do if there are any pregnant pauses in the conversation where I only hear the rustling of clothing I will cross that bridge when I come to it. I know it will be far more pleasant for me than those I spy upon.

"No! I won't do it, I won't!" Meg shouts defiantly. To what demand I don't know as I just arrived.

"Come, come Meg. You know you have no choice. Of course if you don't care if your…what is he anyway Meg? Lover, patron or simply someone you are duping so that you can clean him out? If that's the case why be so critical of me? I only want a small portion of his vast wealth. After all I don't want to be greedy. I'll settle for what you have with an added bonus of what I can clean out just as soon as you lure Mr. Garnier out of the house for a sufficient time period. The servants are no problem. What man of wealth only has two servants inside and a third woman of questionable qualifications to see to his needs? Lord knows when I get what's coming to me I'll have a houseful of servants waiting on me hand and foot," arrogant words I shall make him regret later.

I hear Meg gasp before Heinrich speaks again with what I am sure he believes is a persuasive tone, "Play your cards right and I may even let you come with me Meg. Would it not be better to follow the money than stay here working off your debt with such a disgusting man?"

I do believe I hear Meg say something very vulgar and what sounds like flesh meeting flesh. I do believe Meg has delivered a very sound slap to her guest's face. "Damn you. So now the street whore comes out. That's fine with me Meg my sweet. I don't mind a bit of rough stuff. It makes it all the more exciting. I can rut with the best of them ask any of my lovers. They all know Henry likes to play rough," he boasts crudely then I hear a loud crack of a hand across another cheek. Meg's painful cry informs me the cad has struck her soft skin. I shall pluck his limbs from his body one by one like a cruel child does a butterfly. He will pay, oh how he will pay.

"I'd rather lie with a viperous snake than spend one more second with you beyond what is necessary to win my freedom from you," Meg spits out defiantly earning herself another crack across her face. I would applaud her bravery if it wasn't for the fact she is suffering his hands upon her tender flesh. She'll be bruised later I am sure.

I hear a crash which I assume is the result of him pushing her away from him. I have confirmation of this when he says with a spiteful chuckle, "Why Meg I do believe you have broken that chair. How ever will you explain that? Since we must keep the true nature of our association secret I know you'll come up with something convincing."

There is silence for a brief moment then he says, "My, my. Look at the time. I simply must fly sweet Meg. How about a kiss? No? What a shame. Should I make that as an additional demand? You give me your body willingly? I promise I can make it good for you. Ask Fleck if you don't believe me."

Fleck? What has he to do with my former employee? I haven't heard anything from her since a week or so after the tragedy. I assumed she had left the country with her father as they had talked about so often. Could that be where she met this Heinrich? He does have a hint of an accent but nothing definitive enough to ascertain if he was born somewhere else or lived in America with immigrant parents. He could pick up his accent from them if they only came to the country just before his birth. I judged him to be in his mid-twenties.

Meg's sobs coming from the other side of the wall drive everything else from my mind. Tears coming from a woman are something I cannot bear. It is a weakness I abhor but cannot control. My plan to pretend to be in ignorance of the situation is tossed away as I slip into the room through a sliding panel. Meg has collapsed on the floor in a miserable heap shaking with the force of her tears.

Without hesitation I kneel down and gather her in my arms. She must have thought I was Heinrich returning to carry out some part of his evil plan because she flinches away from me. Her cowering reminds me so much of how Christine responded to me back when madness claimed me. I may have some of that madness in me now but not uncontrolled as it was before and no longer with Meg as its target.

Lifting her head she looks at me then launches herself against me and cries piteously, "Erik, oh Erik. I thought…I thought you were him coming back to finish what he started. Forgive me. Please forgive me."

I didn't realize how shaken I was until I used my hand to brush away the stray hairs from her face. My hand shook as if I had palsy. I found it hard to breath. Speech seemed to have deserted me. All I can think of is Meg is upset and possibly physically hurt and I didn't do a damn thing to stop her tormentor from leaving. Concentrating on the physical it takes a while for it to dawn on me she is begging my forgiveness for what isn't clear to me just yet. From what I overheard she is not having an affair with Heinrich nor is she inclined to do so anytime soon.

Tightening my arms around her I nearly crush her in my attempt to give her comfort. She makes no protest and even snuggles deeper into my chest. In this moment I am awash in feelings so powerful they cannot be ignored. I know now that what I am feeling for Meg is more than just a physical yearning. I want her heart and soul. After Christine I doubted I could ever feel such an emotional closeness with anyone again.

My heart nearly bursts out of my chest when Meg slides her lips along my cheek to let them come to rest on my own. There is no desperate fusing of lip to lip but more of a tentative exploration. Will I frighten her if I deepen the kiss? Restraining my basic urge to take command of our embrace I let Meg control what will or will not happen. I am not experienced in such matters unlike Meg who has had…No! I will not defile this first tender intimate moment with those sorts of thoughts. This exchange will remain innocent of any encroachment from our pasts.

When I cannot remain still and unresponsive any longer I place my hands on Meg's face and gently glide my tongue across her lips. Instantly she opens to me but I refrain from entering her open lips. If I give way now I won't be able to stop until I have claimed her and our first time together should not be consummated on the floor of my parlor. I deeply regretted how I took Christine on the hard surface of the rooftop. That night was pagan desires let run amok. I want to woe and seduce Meg as I should have done with Christine. Stalking her and giving her ultimatums were not a proper courtship. Is it any wonder Christine chose to go with Raoul?

Before things can get out of hand I stand to collect myself before offering to help Meg to her feet. She does not shy away or appear to have any regrets, on the contrary she places her hands on my shoulders and leans against me. Does she know how loose my grip is on the tether I have on my lust? Before we can move on we must sort out this recent turn of events.

"Meg we must stop," are the words I speak but inside a voice shouts at me to take what I want.

"Stop, but I thought…I thought this was what you wanted," hurt is woven with bewilderment in her words.

"Believe me Meg stopping is the last thing I want but it is the right thing to do for now. I don't want our first time to be sordid or overshadowed by misunderstandings. You have something you have been hiding from me concerning your dear friend. I will have an explanation before we go any further," I tried to keep the rising anger from coming out but a little of it seeped out anyway.

I can see Meg is on the verge of tears again. After such a traumatic experience she must be exhausted. A hot bath, a warm meal and a good night's sleep is what she needs.

"Meg there will be plenty of time tomorrow for us to speak regarding this matter. For now go to your room and take a hot bath. I'll send Cook up with a light meal then you must pop into bed," I sound almost avuncular.

"Sleep? What about…" I silence her by placing my finger on her lips. Sliding it seductively down over her soft flesh I feel her shiver. My lips land just where my finger had been moments ago.

We are both winded when we part. Knowing she is just down the hall from my own room it is doubtful I shall sleep a wink. I will use that time to begin some sort of plan.

What I will do depends on just what Monsieur Heinrich Grueber had in mind. I'll let his own greed be his downfall. A diabolical plan begins to formulate in my mind. Yes, this will work perfectly and the end result will have nothing to do with me or very little anyway. My conscience will remain clear. Grueber will decide his own fate.

**A/N: The plot thickens. **


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter Twenty-two**

**The Wonders Beneath**

Contrary to my prediction of a sleepless night once I entered my bedroom my bed called to me. I feel into a deep dreamless sleep. I cannot recall the last time I got through a whole night without being disturbed by nightmares. The sun shining through my opened drapes normally would have been blocked out as I like to wake slowly. This morning though the sun greeted me first thing as I opened my eyes. I may be excused my lapse of memory as I had a lot on my mind. The only reason I can think of for such peaceful slumber is I already had a plan for Heinrich inside my mind. I just had to wait for it to manifest itself in actual thoughts.

Lying prone on my bed letting my thoughts wander where they would gradually revealed just what I had to do to rid us of Meg's tormentor.

Before breakfast I would need to pay a visit to my laboratory. There are a few very poisonous species from which I could choose to aid me in my plan, animal, plants or insect. Whichever I felt would deliver the effect I wanted with the least amount of trouble on my part. Once I made the decision how quickly and painfully I wanted him to die then I'd know which assassin I would need. Meg need not be part of this. Too much violence has already touched her in her short life. Much of it can be attributed to me due to my ignorance.

At this early hour there should only be Cook in the kitchen and Harold setting the fires in the dining room in preparation for breakfast. Meg will not have risen just yet or perhaps she is just dressing for the day. Or perhaps she will choose to take a morning bath. For a moment graphic images of her unclothed and surrounded by bubbles leaves me incapable of movement. Chastising myself for such adolescent behavior I continue on down to the end of the hall to the door I keep locked at all times. It leads down to the cellar and a couple of levels beyond that. Many wheelbarrows of rock and soil had to be carted out to make the two subterranean levels I wanted. A dozen Chinamen did all the backbreaking work while I masterminded how to shore up walls and pump out water from underground springs without diverting the natural flow of the water. If I messed with nature too much I could have ended up without water to supply my home. On the verge of bringing a woman to share my life on a permanent basis it would not do to lose such a luxury as running water in every water closet in the house and the kitchen. Of course I did not know consciously I planned to share my life with a woman in any capacity. Genius that I am even my subconcious shows more intellect than most men I know. Creative genius that I am there is also an abundance of fresh water in the lower levels that does not reside three feet deep on the floor. I don't feel bigheaded referring to my intellect as being equated with genius. Compared to most scholars I am an equal in every sense except that of birth. That lack I concede.

For all my skulking abilities I nearly jump out of my skin when a hand taps me on my shoulder. I spin around prepared to strike my assailant dead on the spot. It is only Meg. Coming so close to ending her life I shout, "What the hell are you playing at woman? I could have killed you, Knowing who I was before and what I am still capable of did it not occur to you to shout out or make yourself known to me other than fright…other than risking death?"

I nearly confessed to Meg how badly frightened I actually felt in that brief moment. What sort of protector will she think me if I jump at every turn? It is her fault for sneaking about. Unjust or not it does leave me some pride.

"Erik if I shouted it would only bring Howard and Amelia running ready to bash someone's head in," she reasons making perfect sense yet baffling me with the unfamiliar name. Has there been another person added to my household without my knowledge? Meg must have interpreted my quizzical look correctly for she supplied me with an answer.

"Cook Erik, her name is Amelia. All this time and you continue to call her Cook. You even have Howard doing it. After learning she hates being referred to as Cook as if that profession were her name I asked what I should call her. And before you start lecturing me on how the origins of names began I will remind you Amelia has a perfectly acceptable first and last name and has no wish to change either and now tell me what is behind this door," she concludes succinctly as she taps on the wooden panel.

Having taken the wind out of my sails I am at a loss what to say or do. Busy taking notice of how charmingly disarrayed she looks in the morning I find it hard to remember just what I had been doing before her disruption in my task. Would she slap my face if I suggest we forgo breakfast and return to her room or mine? Best not tempt fate as we are already on shaky ground what with Heinrich standing between us. I am still in the dark just what he is holding over Meg like the Sword of Damocles. Later after I review my lovely specimens we will get to the bottom of it all.

Do I really want her to see what is down there? It isn't any more diabolical than the traps I created to keep people from entering the lower levels of the opera house. As my world broadened so did the ideas for torture expand and evolve. There are so many natural poisons in both the plant and animal world. Natives in some countries tip the darts for their blowguns in poisons created from different plants and some from the venom of snakes and insects. A man can receive an innocent looking bite only to die a slow agonizing death with no cure available. If she is to be with me then it is only fair she knows just what sort of man I am. What she does know should send her running all the way back to the city and yet she stays, even fought for the privilege.

Daily oiling of the hinges keeps the door silent as it is opened. There are times when I can't sleep and music does not flow easily, I come down here to work on some of my ongoing experiments and inventions. If I place all harmful items under lock and key I may bring Gustave down here. I am positive it would be something to tickle his fancy.

Meg wraps her arm around mine without any hesitation. I was about to suggest she hold onto the rail or maybe offer my hand for stability but I like this better. It brings her closer to me. The thin material of her gown is hardly a barrier at all. I had better find something to take my mind off of what is underneath those thin layers or I will be lost. Ten years of celibacy is long enough to drive a man to drink or other less worthy pursuits. Self satisfaction has a place I suppose but as a permanent solution for sexual gratification it leaves a lot to be desired once one has tasted heaven in a woman's embrace. I have been in a famine and now I want to feast.

Flipping a switch, light instantly floods the room. I could have put electricity in the upper floors but at the time my workroom seemed more important. In hindsight I could have better served myself by wiring the upper floors. I can see renovations in my future.

"Erik how wonderful it all is. How ever did you get everything down here and the electricity too? How clever you are. I always knew you were. After all how many times did I have to listen to Christine go on and on about this incredible genius with a home below the opera house more wondrous than anything she had ever seen?" there is a catch in her voice when she speaks Christine's name.

"Christine spoke to you about me?" incredulity creeps in as well as pride.

"Oh course she did. Not in the beginning but after you took her that first time. I…I think that is the night she first knew she loved you. If you had asked her then she would have stayed," she offers this to me knowing how much I loved Christine. If she feels anything for me it must give her pain to say such things and to wonder if I still have love burning in my heart for Christine. I could reassure her but it would all be lies. I do not know if Christine's memory is only that, a sweet memory.

The subject is yet too hurtful to discuss with Meg or with anyone. Naturally Gustave had been curious about the relationship between his mother and I. I told him just enough to satisfy his eleven year old mind. Later as he matures I am certain more questions will come but that will be years later, time enough to lessen my own grief so that if he approaches me I can speak of that time rationally without losing my composure. I do not know what Raoul told him or what he will say when Gustave puts forth more pertinent questions. I suspect Raoul will say or do nothing to tarnish Christine's name or good opinion of his son toward his mother.

Despite not wanting to discuss Christine with Meg I am helpless to stay a burning question I must ask, "Did she…did she ever express to you that she felt…felt…repulsed by me? Could she only tolerate me in the dark or if the hideous destruction of my face remained hidden?"

She seemed surprised by my query and so she should be. How can I convey to her that although Christine sought me out the night before her wedding I still harbored doubts about her true feelings? If pity played any part in what happened between us I do not know if I can bear the awful truth of it.

"Oh Erik surely you knew…must know that Christine would never… she would never have given herself to someone out of pity, not even you. She loved you. Don't ever doubt that," she puts forth her plea with such convincing ardor I must believe her. As much as it must hurt her to confess Christine's love for me Meg bore the weight of her confession for me, someone she might also care deeply about? Or is protecting my weak pride the extent of her affection for me? She will sacrifice her own peace of mind so that I might keep a sweet memory of another woman's gift to me.

"Thank you Meg. Thank you for that. For all my outward arrogance in truth I am besieged by uncertainty at every turn. I cannot take for granted anything that holds value to me. When I want something so badly as I did Christine's love I tend to obsess to the point I cannot tell fact from fiction," that confession leaves me open to ridicule if she were so inclined.

"Erik you have no need to doubt Christine's affections or my own. I…I love you Erik. For such a long time I have loved you. We both love so powerfully it can drive us mad. Your madness ended just as mine began. That night…the night you escaped…when I held your mask something began to come to life inside of me. I had felt its beginning before that but not as profoundly as when I held your mask still warm from the heat of your flesh. It was then my heart began its journey to cease to be my own. Gradually I gave it over into your keeping but…Erik please let's not speak of my…of that part of our lives just yet. I…I can't, someday soon but not today. Today I want to be that innocent girl experiencing the first pangs of love," her wish is mine also. Tomorrow will be soon enough to bring all of our sullied past into the light, mine as well as hers.

In answer I gently pull her to me to convey in the best way I know how just how much I care for her. I kiss her tenderly letting her feel through my lips that my very soul is hers for the asking. I surrender completely to her. If she plays me for a fool so be it. At least I'll have had these few perfect moments even if they prove to be false. What man hasn't suffered a woman's scorn and rejection? I am not so different from all the other young men offering themselves to a woman they find appealing and must await her acceptance or rejection.

Meg's response gives me hope that I will not awaken from this lovely dream and find I am in a nightmare of betrayal. Her hand caressing my masked face is oddly erotic. The fire below my waist is in danger of engulfing us both in a fiery inferno. God how hard it is to push her away especially knowing I could have her right here, right now. All I need do is continue stoking the fire. It is enough to know I can have her without feeling the urge to prove to myself I am a normal man.

"As badly as I want this Meg we both know now is not the time. Do not feel rejected or in doubt of my affection…or my…my love," there I have said it out loud. Once spoken out loud it cannot be erased from our memory. It is a verbal declaration giving credence to the physical displays we have shared.

"Oh Erik I feel so frightened to feel so happy. Whenever I begin to think at last I will find some joy in my miserable existence something happens to snatch it away. My career as a dancer ended just when I was told I was under consideration for Prima Ballerina," I flinch as it is because of me her dream ended so abruptly.

"Erik I don't blame you…not entirely anyway. So many factors lead to that night of disaster. Raoul and I spoke of it when he came to visit me while I was ill. I think we both purged ourselves during that time. It left us feeling striped to our souls but it did open the festering wound Christine's death left both of us to share. We both took ownership of our part in this. We forgave one another. We may never be close as Christine would want but at least we can live with what we have done knowing that we are beginning the process of healing," she concludes sadly.

Sighing deeply she shrugs her shoulders as if shaking off an unwelcome touch and says, "Let us put this discussion on hold until another time. I believer you were going to show me the secrets of this hideaway."

Taking my cue from her I look around trying to decide where to start when Meg asks from across the room, "Erik what are these odd looking little worms?"

I turn to see her holding a glass jar with a lid on top. My heart drops to my feet. If she should drop it and it broke…I don't care to imagine what Meg would suffer if one of them were to get on her clothing and…no it is unthinkable.

As calmly as I can manage I stride with purpose to stand in front of her then gently remove the jar from her unresisting hand. My relief is overwhelming. I must warn her about my possession in this room. The opera staff used to say keep your hand at the level of your eye to save them from my lasso but there is little they or anyone could do if one of these creatures were to burro inside their host. Death would be a blessed release if that were to happen.

"These little creatures Meg are very deceptive. They appear quite harmless but that is a deadly deception. Earwigs, they are known as earwigs. They attach themselves to an unsuspecting host then work their way to the ear. Burrowing inside the ear they feed on the brain of their host. It is very painful and can drive a person mad to the point of begging for death. I have witnessed the agony their victims suffer. If a person survives until the little monster eats his way to the other side and crawls out the other ear that person feels relief to have survived. It is only by close examination that it can be determined just how lucky or condemned that person truly is. If the earwig is a male then the only damage that will be left behind is what they suffered during the gluttonous journey through the brain. If the worm is a female then there is no helping that victim. Her eggs will have been laid and left behind to hatch so they may feed on the host. It isn't pleasant. During this a victim must be tied down or they will claw away at their own flesh to the point of actually ripping pieces of flesh away trying to dig out the culprit to no avail. Having suffered one torturous invasion imagine hundreds of those inside your head eating you bit by tiny bit and there is nothing you can do but suffer unless you find the courage to end it all," my narration comes to an end and I can see Meg is slightly green and very shocked by my informative words. Perhaps I was overly graphic but I must convey that not everything that looks innocent is harmless.

"Meg, please forgive me for being overly graphic. I only want to urge you to show caution. Not everything down here is benign. If you wish to return with me from time to time I will acquaint you with what is safe and what is not. Would you…would you care to see some of my inventions and curious possessions?" I cannot keep the boyish eagerness from entering my words.

Observing her glancing around nervously I feel disheartened by her reaction. I wanted to share some of my interests with her. Christine could not have born being in a place such as this. My magically lit lair held wonder for her but it was all beauty and light not menacing and deadly. I might have been menacing and deadly but not my home, not once you got past the deadly traps.

Appearing to make her decision she comes to me and places her hands on my chest in a way that distracts me from every other thing in the room. Taking a deep breath for fortification I am sure, she says, "Erik nothing would please me more than to share things only your marvelous mind can grasp. Perhaps with tutelage from you I too might come to enjoy learning about all the little known wonders of the world. Just please inform me if you acquire any new marvels. I'd hate to meet my demise by a creature no bigger than a mealworm."

Wonderful creature that she is I receive a bright smile that warms my heart. She doesn't think me a mad scientist out to conquer the world. All this experimentation is for my personal information. Constantly my mind is working on one problem or another. Knowledge is like nourishment for my brain. Always I feel the need to learn more and more. Everything is a puzzle to be solved. There is so much we do not know about our own world and I want to open the locked doors so I may see what is beyond our present comprehension.

The seed has been planted. Now, to sit back and let it blossom. I will reap the benefit of the harvest.


	23. Chapter 23

**Twenty-three**

**Strategies**

Meg followed me around eagerly asking questions. It surprised me how intelligent she really was. It shouldn't have but it did. Intelligence is not a requirement for performing on the stage as long as one has talent and can take direction. Carlotta had lost her voice over time due to a lack of discipline and damage to her throat because of the use of tobacco and drink. As her star rose she lost her willingness to take direction and refused to come to any rehearsal except for dress rehearsals. My campaign to remove her as diva began a few years before Christine started showing signs of being a true diva.

Watching Meg float around with her gown billowing behind her I regret not taking more interest in her. I have watched her dance and did enjoy the performance but she was just one among so many and did not draw my attention. There will be time to make amends for my past negligence. She is still young and could take the stage again. Even as I think this I know it is a lie. Meg's time has past. Her time for glory is long gone. I cannot help but wonder if secretly she holds me to blame for that loss. This is a recurring worry one I contemplated before.

"Meg do you regret not continuing on as a classical dancer? Prima Ballerina was within your grasp," I could not keep the desperate hope from creeping through.

"Erik I have not regretted one moment leaving Paris and everything that went with it. I don't regret helping you and I certainly don't regret falling in love with you. My only regrets are separating from my only sister for ten years, finding her again then letting my petty jealously have me do things that lead me down a path of madness. I regret most of all taking her from her son, her husband and you Erik. If not for me she would be here in this room with you instead of me. I won't ask which one you would rather have as it is not a fair question. Of course you want her to be alive as do I. What would have come of her decision is something we can only speculate about. I am working my way past wondering about all of that. To move on I can't keep focusing on the might have beens," her gaze is locked with mine so I can read the passion and truth of her declaration.

"So to answer your question, no Erik I do not regret abandoning the stage as a dancer. There are other compensations in life that will fill all those empty places," she is looking deeply into my eyes and there is a flickering flame waiting to be fueled into an all consuming fire by me. Knowing what awaits me I vow to put an end to Mr. Grueber's plans in the near future.

"Now Erik, tell me, what devious device do you plan to use on Heinrich?" Meg asks as she looks about at all the half developed machines and jars of medicinal concoctions I am perfecting.

"Device? Whatever do you mean? I have no plans other than which theatre I shall attend this evening," I reply with what I hope is a convincing answer.

"Erik we may not have been close all these years but looking in from the outside I have been able to observe and assess you. You don't suffer anyone cheating you or taking something you want. You may have changed but not to the degree you will ignore someone plotting behind your back. Speaking of which I am honored you place your trust in me enough to side with me not knowing just what Heinrich has planned or if I am not his dupe but his partner in crime," her assurance indicates that she is not afraid of me or what I might do. More fool her. With little provocation I'd have her on the floor right this very second and we'd not see daylight until we were sated and exhausted.

"Before we go into what method my retaliation shall take we will first return upstairs where we will enjoy our breakfast then retire to the library. Then Meg you will tell me in detail just what that wretched cur holds over your head that makes you follow his every dictate," I warn without trying to scare her before we even have a cup of tea in front of us.

Only a brief flash of unease enters her eyes then they fill with what I believe is adoration but then I could be seeing what I want to see. I am not known for being overly objective when it comes to matters of the heart. When someone wins my affections I tend to lose my objectivity. Christine wasn't the first female to win my heart just the first one I felt brave enough to seek out. Our shared musical talents gave me hope for a future and it could have happened but…well no sense rehashing that. I know what I did and live with the regret every day.

On a whim I ask if she would care to partake of breakfast in my laboratory. Her eyes light up as if I have given her a special gift and on some levels I have for this room has been only mine since the day I placed the door on its hinges. I am the only person to occupy this space or view its secrets until I let Meg enter the world that reflects the workings of my mind.

Eagerly we head to the kitchen and nearly frighten poor Cook to death. I refuse to think of her as anything other than Cook. For me it has become a form of endearment for the taciturn old bat. I do believe I saw a twinkle in her eye when Meg told her what we wanted. The knowing smile on her face did little to endear her to me. Only someone settled in the role of woman of the house would order my servants around the way Meg does. In any other situation it would be me passing out the orders. I find I don't mind Meg taking contol other than it gives Cook something to smrk about.

We wait until our breakfast is nearly consumed before I give Meg a look she correctly interprets as my desire to begin this discussion without further delay. Nervously she wriggles in her seat, dabs at her mouth with her napkin, straightens her silverware unnecessarily before she begins.

"One day while I was in the city sitting at a table having lunch a man sat down without an invitation. He startled me and I asked him to please leave me as I did not wish to share a flirtation with him. He laughed, not in a friendly way. He sounded sinister. If you will forgive the comparison Erik he sounded quite like you used to when you were still the Phantom," she pauses to grapple with words to continue.

"He introduced himself as Heinrich Grueber. I didn't recognize the name or his face and once again asked him to leave. Again he laughed. What could I do other than hear him out without causing a scene?" now she sounded defensive.

"He didn't leave me in the dark much longer. When he finished the most pressing emotion was panic. His threat to expose who you really were to the authorities filled me with dread. As he pointed out there is no statute of limitations on murder and you would not be held accountable for only one but many deaths. Mother and I we…we never found the courage to read any articles about the fire so we did not know how many lost their lives that night. If we found out I suppose it may have influenced us against you and neither of us was willing to leave you alone or betray you. Mother because she looked on you as a son and me…well I had started to lose my heart to you and couldn't bear to think of what they would do to you if you were caught," she shivers dramatically causing me to shiver as well. My imagination is all too ready to picture me being paraded through the Parisian streets as hundreds of angry citizens hurl missiles at me and call me all the familiar names I have heard since I have been of an age to understand what those words meant.

"It was Fleck Erik who told him about you. They met shortly after she left here. He charmed her with the intent only to take advantage of a young girl's innocence but once she carelessly let the whole sordid story slip out one night after…well you can imagine after what," she looks away uneasily. I do believe I see a blush on her cheeks. I would have thought her revelation would cause my anger to rise beyond my control but on the contrary I am calm. Perhaps it has to do with the fact that I am distracted by my admiration for Meg. That doesn't mean I am not taking in every word or ignoring the implications of what she is saying, it simply is being placed on the back burner of the stove temporarily.

"After he found out who you were and how much you were worth his greedy mind began to plot just how to remove everything into his own pockets. Oh Erik, I am so sorry but he has been taking small things of value from around the house. I dare not say anything lest he carry out his threat. I didn't care about me but if they caught you they…they…Erik it is too horrible to even say the words. I didn't care if he told the authorities about Christine. My only concern was for you. I didn't want anything to happen to you. You have come so far from being that pitiful creature Christine thought you were. The struggle wasn't easy but you did claim your rightful place in the world. I couldn't let him destroy what you had built," she sobs piteously. Her tears are for me not for anything he might have done to her. Has anyone ever put me first? I can honestly say an emphatic "No!" not even Christine. Did Christine not agree with Raoul and those idiot managers to capture me at all costs? Did she not humiliate me in the way most likely to wound me irreparably? What I feel for Meg at this very moment is so profound it nearly makes me weep knowing how truly loyal and in love with me she must be.

Willingly she shouldered this burden and sacrificed that man touching her, threatening her and all for my benefit. This I shall never forget for as long as I live. It is rare to achieve such remarkable loyalty and doubly so for me. Before I commit myself totally I must confront my relationship with Christine and resolve any lingering issues I may have. After I have taken care of this current ripple in my stream of happiness I'll face my past mistakes head on one last time. This will be a cleansing process that will either free me or show me I cannot ever let go what I had and still have with Christine.

I must have gone into a world of my own for some time for Meg taps me gently on my arm and asks, "Erik are you alright? You seem to have retreated into a private world for a few moments."

"I apologize. I am not used to sharing my innermost thoughts with anyone. It will take some time to adjust to having someone interested in what I grapple with inside my mind. Be warned there are some places too dark for the squeamish to enter. I have not been a ray of sunshine or a peaceful babbling brook. A more apt description for the workings of my mind would be the blackest wildest tempest anyone ever experienced. Anyone attaching themselves to me best be prepared for turbulent waters," I warn her giving a fair chance for her to back away without any hard feelings. I stand waiting for her decision.

Without hesitation she comes to me wrapping her arms tightly around my waist as she presses her cheek against my chest. I don't need the words but she gives them to me anyway, "Erik whatever troubles you troubles me. If there is a tempest brewing inside of you I will be the calming breeze that blows the storm clouds away. I shall be the voice of reason when life gets complicated. I shall be your anchor and you shall be mine. We will weather all the storms together whatever they shall be. You and I are no longer alone. Whatever happens Erik, you shall have my complete trust and devotion."

Damn proper places and times. I want her and she is not averse to having me. Grasping her arms I pull her roughly against me even closer than she had been. I steal her breath with a deep kiss. Lifting her up in my arms I carry her to a table that is not completely cluttered. Sitting her down I do not break the kiss. Not one word of protest reaches my ears. On the contrary Meg begins to unbutton my jacket with impatient fingers.

Wanting to feel more of her delicate skin I run my hand up her leg. Such soft smooth skin sets my senses on fire. Did she plan for us to have a tryst? I find no complicated undergarments impeding the progress of my wandering appendage. The ache of unmet desire settles between my legs swelling my already engorged manhood. My moment of bliss is not far away. Will I feel shame if I expel my seed prematurely or will she realize just how mad for her I am?

Reaching the seat of her desires I find her wet and ready. Moans coming from her fuel my own pleasure. It has been too long since I have felt this kind of erotic sensations. Unconventional it may be but it is also somewhat a guilty pleasure to seek fulfillment out of the bedroom. It had been the same with Christine, immediate hot wet desire. This is similar only more intense as I am not unsure what will come after we have satisfied our carnal needs.

I suppose Meg is privy to just how close I am to losing control. Of her own accord she reaches down to unbutton my trousers. Feeling her hand fumbling against my hard flesh nearly has me coming undone. The first touch of her hand on me brings forth an animal cry I cannot reconcile as coming from me. Both of us are now sweating and grunting in the grip of unbridled passion. We moan even as we declare our love and praise one another as lovers do. I reach the final pinnacle just moments before Meg. Our breathing sounds like a smithy's bellows stoking up the forge.

Having let my sexual hunger lead me astray I now feel slightly afraid that now Meg will wonder if I am a sex starved deviant. True she could have protested, or perhaps she felt she must do as I wanted or risk my wrath? I couldn't bear it if that were the case.

Resting my forehead against hers I shakily offer my apology, "Meg I am so sorry. This isn't…this isn't how I wanted our first time to be. You deserve more."

"Hush. It was perfect. Erik you know I have had other men, many men. None of them took the time to give me any sort of tenderness or thought to satisfy my needs. I was nothing but an object to them, someone below there station they stole a few moments with then left to forget all about me until the next time there wanderlust itched and needed to be scratched. We haven't ever spoken about those men or why I let them lay one finger on me. It was for you, all for you. If there is anything you wish to know let us speak of it now then forget it all. Let's put it all behind us."

Do I want to hear more of her former lovers in graphic detail? Hell no. If I could erase every moment she spent with anyone else I would gladly do so and not only for her but for me as well. Straightening her gown I use the time to formulate what I will say. Meg uses the opportunity to refasten my clothing too. Damned if my overworked libido isn't raring to go again. Control Erik, control I silently instruct the lustful beast in me.

"Meg before we close this subject permanently there is something I need to say. I don't regret having taken this liberty but do regret I couldn't have at least taken you to my bed. I lost my head and will try to keep a tighter reign on my lust," I offer hoping I can keep to my word.

"Anywhere you are Erik is where I want to be. Wherever we share our intimate moments will be perfect because we are together expressing what we feel for one another. The place doesn't matter. It is the people being together with someone they can't live without or bear to be parted from for one second longer than necessary. I could live without you Erik but I wouldn't want to. You are my home, my heart, my soul. All I have is yours," she vows and I cannot help but believe what she says.

Sealing our bargain with a kiss that almost ignites the fires beyond the bounds of control we leave this place that I shall not look upon as a sterile place for the expansion of my mind only. I can see a small bed with a comfortable mattress sitting in the corner surrounded by candles.

Our breakfast could have been straw for all I know. I tasted nothing. Meg received my full attention. I wonder if she has ever blushed so much since she was a very young girl.

Finding Howard cleaning the library I head down the hall toward my study. Meg sits in the far corner so as to remove us from temptation. It is a failed attempt as the sun gives her an angelic aura countermanded by the sensual smile on her lips and the promise of pleasures to come. Collecting my train of thought is only accomplished by keeping my gaze on the top of my desk. With a few false starts I gather my composer and can lay out what I have in mind for Mr. Heinrich Grueber.

Just because we are in the afterglow of our lovemaking that does not mean we would not have a disagreement in our future. I wanted to kill the bastard outright and made no bones about it either. Why should I have concerns for the man when he would turn me in knowing I faced the gallows or guillotine if I return to France. He has stolen from me, blackmailed Meg, threatened my life; he touched Meg in familiar ways that make my blood boil. I admit it is the later misconduct that concerns me the most. Possessions are only that, possessions but the woman who holds your heart is something else indeed.

In the end Meg and I compromised or more accurately I let her believe I gave into her tender demand to simply render the man unconscious by means of a sleeping powder sprinkled on the contents of my safe. I have such a powder that is quickly absorbed into the skin. Knowing a man such as Mr. Grueber would keep coming back once he found the golden goose I could not let him leave my home without knowing he would meet his end shortly afterward. Needless to say I will be digging a grave that night.

I will let the burden of this sin be mine. Meg is too trusting and forgiving. I know better than anyone that once a blackmailer sinks in his claws, he has his victim for life or until every last drop is drained from one pocket to another. In the beginning of my terror in the opera house the managers through the years offered me hundreds of thousands of francs to leave them in peace. They even offered me the option to live quietly in the deepest cellars if I wished. Regrettably I found the intoxication of complete power over other human beings too much to let go for mere monetary gain.

All we had to do now was wait for him to contact Meg and she would pretend to send me on a wild goose chase to give our prey ample time to collect the trail of breadcrumbs I will leave around the house, all leading to my safe which I will conveniently make sure the camouflaging picture in front of it is left slightly ajar. A man of experience with safes should have mine opened in about two minutes or less. If his greed will not let him leave peacefully with what he can carry out then what will be will be. My conscience will be clear. Meg may suffer pangs of regret but I plan to keep her mind on other things, namely me.

**A/N: And so the game of cat and mouse begins. Maybe not your garden variety of cat but a big wide mouthed sharp toothed lion. Erik is lion hear him roar. GRRRROWL.**


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter Twenty-four**

**Die Bastard Die**

The time spent waiting for Heinrich to return and make good on his one last demand began to wear on my nerves. It also gave me time to reconsider if taking another life is how I wanted to begin my life with Meg. Cold hearted murder would not have caused me one seconds loss of sleep as short a time as one year earlier. Love of the unselfish kind changes ones outlook on life, it softens your hard edges, at least it has mine.

Having this dilemma brings home to me how little time need pass to change ones outlook on life. Changing just a few things puts a different spin on what is and what can be. I used to think the only things I would get were things I stole from others or things no one else wanted. Now I had more than I could possibly use with the addition of Meg and Gustave. I suppose I can include Raoul also to a certain degree. In fact I am due to arrive for a visit today. I cannot name exactly what to call the relationship between me and my former rival. To hold a grudge for past slights seems petty when for once everything in my life seems to be flowing smoothly with only one ripple on the pond, Heinrich and he will soon be a fast fading memory. It is hard for me to do as Raoul suggested and think of myself as a brother of sorts. I dare say his parents would commit him were they privy to his offer.

Sitting in my carriage I watch the scenery pass knowing that all I see belongs to me. I have a son but he will not inherit from me other than a token bequest. Meg and I are not on such terms yet that speaking about having children is a topic we have discussed nor are we on the verge of planning a wedding. Everything is too new for such instant speculation. In normal circumstances we would have to court for months before taking even an innocent carriage ride. I should feel ashamed to have let our one slip happen at all but I cannot say it bothers me overly much. Other than those few odd occasions we meet for the pure enjoyment of one another's company we haven't had any deep conversations. So far the limitations of our exchanges have been about ending Heinrich's chokehold on Meg. Left to me I would have killed him when first I spied him and felt an instant dislike for him. All this unnecessary worry could have been avoided.

I may have changed but some things will never change to the degree where I will not use my old methods to solve worrisome problems. What is one murder here or there if committed in the service of good will? So much for love changing me. If Heinrich can be bought off with what trinkets he can find then nothing terrible need happen to him. I know that is not going to happen but for Meg's sake I will at least pretend it is a viable assumption. It is hard to say if I would have let him go without some repayment if I saw some glimmer of honesty in him. He is a bounder through and through.

My perusal of the passing scenery isn't only for me to appreciate but also so I may decide in which grove of trees to plant our soon to be permanent new resident. Several areas are marked to be culled for use as firewood and building materials. Others are being cleared away all together as rot has set in presenting a danger to unsuspecting riders or me as I tend to walk about at night when sleep evades me. Where I bury the body will have to be a place that will remain untouched for…oh…say the next fifty years or so. I'll be out of reach of man's law by that time or so old I won't care.

Spotting the ideal place now I can relax and enjoy the rest of the journey. Mr. Heinrich Grueber will have a much better final resting place than he deserves. I will spend the day with Gustave then return home to prepare for an evening out with Meg. I reserved a box for us at the theatre. It isn't opera but something modern. Meg teases me about my refusal to consider anything without a high C somewhere in the song to be drivel. Not so or not any more. Meg could have been a superb operatic performer if I had taken her under my tutelage but that did not happen. Her voice is well suited for many of the newer types of songs being written for a less discerning audience. It is as Meg says, all music has a place. I just wish the drivel didn't happen to be performed in my favorite theatre.

This evening we will be closed in a box in the dark for well over two hours. Unless nature comes to call I won't be leaving the box and hope Meg will not want to socialize. I don't trust some of these theatre patrons who masquerade as gentlemen only to turn into Jack the Ripper when behind closed doors. Case in point our soon to be dearly departed Heinrich Grueber.

If God should grant us the privilege to parent a child I am of two minds how I feel. I want to try my hand at rearing a child while dreading what might spring forth at the birth. I couldn't bear it if Meg rejected our child because of a deformity that was not anyone's fault. Some might say my approach to the prospect of having a child cold-blooded. I do wish to see if I can pass on some of what I possess inside my mind. Will I love a child born not from Christine's womb? God yes! If anything I may be one of those fathers who spare the rod and spoil the child. No one, not even Meg, will be allowed to lay a hand on any child I father. No discussion needed.

Gustave must have been waiting for my arrival as he comes barreling out of the front door full steam ahead. I am sure Raoul is looking out one of the windows shaking his head and blaming me for this behavior. After all I did not have the umbrella of a proper upbringing hanging over my head. Everything I am I learned through life's experience. From the studies I have read and those I conducted on my own behalf I think how a person conducts themselves has more to do with upbringing than inherited traits. Should I put Raoul's mind at ease I wonder?

"Erik, Erik, guess what? You'll never guess in a thousand years. Not in a million. Go on take a guess," he clamors on giving no clue as to what I am to guess, so I suppose his assumption I will not guess is correct.

Raoul comes out chastising Gustave but with halfhearted conviction, "Gustave how many more times must I remind you to be a gentleman? We wouldn't want everyone to believe you were raised in the streets. Give Erik time to come in and take off his hat and coat."

I am given time to hand over my outer wear and just touch the seat of the chair Raoul offered to me before Gustave's patience wears thin and he begins again to prattle on about making guesses. To appease him I make off the top of my head offerings of things that might have happened during the time I have been busy with my own life. My success is nil. By this time Gustave can hardly stay sitting in his chair. If he keeps popping up and down he might just manage to hit the ceiling if we can hold off on letting him tell me his pressing news.

"It's father Erik. He…he's found a lady, a very nice and pretty lady. She's ever so nice isn't she father?" Gustave looks to Raoul for confirmation while I sit here looking for all the world like a ventriloquist's dummy. So much is in my head it is taking all my concentration to sort it out.

I look toward Raoul and he is fiddling with his cuffs as if they held the knowledge of the ages within each finely crafted ounce of gold and diamonds. Looking more closely I do believe I see a blush on his face. There must be some truth in what Gustave is saying. I begin to sift through what this will mean for me and Gustave. Is the woman a citizen of the United States or is she a Frenchwoman who came here at Raoul's invitation? Does he plan to marry then take my son from me? I'll see him dead first or perhaps held captive for the rest of his days leaving me free to raise Gustave.

"It isn't…nothing is set or even been discussed. It is too soon to speculate. We met through a mutual friend here in New York. She is American. Her father is someone important in Washington. Estelle Arlington is her name. I had planned to speak with you about her before you left today if Gustave hadn't been so eager to impart the news," he casts that same censorious look toward his son who pretends not to see.

Raoul takes the situation in hand leading us into conversation about upcoming events that we all could enjoy together. These Americans have so many holidays that mean nothing to those newly planted here but even I use them as an excuse to celebrate a little more than I should. I wouldn't mind seeing Meg mellowed by drink, not pie faced but at ease with her surroundings. I don't know what it is about having complete control over a person especially a woman that is very erotic.

Raoul sends Gustave up to his room to play so we can have our chat. He is making me dizzy with his pacing about the room. One more turn and I will snag him with my lasso. Just when I think I will choke the life out of him he takes the seat across from me. After a few false starts fumbling around for the right words he begins his explanation slowly at first then picks up as his confidence grows.

"Erik I don't want you to think I have forgotten Christine or that I am trying to replace her. I couldn't even if I tried. Estelle is like a breath of fresh air. I knew at some point I'd have to think about taking another wife but saw it as far in the future. I didn't actively go looking for someone," he is sounding defensive. I have no idea why he thinks this is my business since he is not planning on marrying someone from another country and taking Gustave away. I could care less if he becomes a Sultan and takes on a whole harem of women as long as they are good to Gustave.

"Christine was such a wonderful mother. She may not have been the ideal wife for me but she always put Gustave first. I want him to have that again or as close as I can provide. It won't happen anytime soon as we hardly know one another. Gustave is premature in his deductions. I wanted to explain my position so that you know I will always have Gustave's best interests at heart. Anyone coming into our life must meet with his wholehearted approval," he declares and I do believe his statement includes me.

I want to tell him what he does is of little concern to me other than how it affects Gustave. I'd never allow his carnal urges to put my son's happiness or safety in jeopardy. A rather disconcerting belief that at least one of us should remain true to Christine niggles at me. It is unseemly for the both of us to move on so soon after the tragedy. I had thought Raoul would grieve through the next year or so thus easing my conscience as to Meg and I forging ahead with our relationship. Christine is beyond earthly cares so does it matter if we find some happiness with others? I feel she would want this for us. Yes, Christine would tell us herself to seek companionship with others if she could. My conscience is clear. Raoul will have to be the judge of his own.

"Raoul as long as Gustave comes to no harm I see nothing to impede you from seeing this woman or any other that takes your fancy. You may have a dozen for all I care," to my own ears it sounds as if I compare Raoul to a Lothario on the prowl for his next victim.

He overlooks my rude comment. He has indeed matured. Perhaps one day someone will say the same for me. This petty need to find fault and egg on disagreements with Raoul is beneath me but alas it is too easy a mode of picking at him for me to abandon it even if I have come to the conclusion our situation will run much smoother if we are friends rather than enemies.

We depart on amicable terms. Why cut off my nose to spite my face? Besides who knows, I may have use of Raoul's status in society if something should go awry with my plan. All contingencies have been covered as far as I can tell. I have looked at it backwards and forwards. Everything is set to play out just as I planned.

My time with Gustave ran a little longer than I anticipated but then how was I to know Raoul would suddenly become a ladies man? Howard is at the door to greet me and I send him along to Meg with a message that I will bathe then join her in the parlor for a cordial before we depart. I deplore drinking those sweet liquors made to please a woman's palate but will sacrifice my own sophisticated palate for Meg. Sacrifice and give and take I have heard are a large part of a successful marriage.

Entering the parlor I find Meg sitting on the edge of the chaise lounge. What I wouldn't give to see her sprawled along its length with only a diaphanous negligee. I file that for future reference. How beautiful she looks. Her golden curls are wound into an intricate coiffure. Bare shoulders are temptingly yet tastefully on display. Blue is a very becoming color for Meg and yet the red dress she is wearing now I will insist she wears many times when we are together. Every hair is in place giving my fingers the urge to tangle them among the carefully placed strands. I much prefer her a little mussed and if it is by my hand that is achieved so much the better.

I am particularly courteous tonight. If I have a plan in the back of my mind to persuade Meg into a little taste of heaven well is that not what normal men do? I need not sink the beast into her flesh to feel the pleasure of it as we discovered in my private room.

The theatre is crowded and noisy. We are shown to my box and the box boy takes my order for refreshments before he leaves us. As per my instructions our chairs are together with a table beside each one rather than one separating the chairs. In this way of necessity our arms will brush one another with sensual friction. I may even be so bold as to remove my jacket. Not something a man would normally do but then who is there to know but the two of us?

The lights flicker signaling the performance is to begin. They could have had a circus on stage for all the notice I took of anything other than Meg. Out of the corner of my eye I could observe every breath she took and follow the rise and fall of her bosom. Glancing down I see that if I move my hand only an inch I will be able to touch hers. Why does this seem more erotic than a clandestine affair? Nonchalantly I slide my hand over until I can feel hers resting on the arm of her chair. Unless I am mistaken I do believe she has advanced her own hand toward mine. Reaching out with my little finger I slide it over hers. She catches her breath then exhales loudly. I receive a responding caress from her.

Linking our fingers is more sensual than any outright caress we have shared. Every sense is centered on the point we are touching. If only one digit elicits so much what would two or perhaps three feel like? Running out of fingers but not out of curiosity I use my forefinger to trace along the back of her hand. Her skin is so soft, so delicate. Just imagining her wrapping that hand around my sex is enough to have me moving about to adjust that engorged appendage trying to rut its way out of my trousers. When I slide my hand up her arm Meg's other hand comes to rest just at the top of her bosom. Her breaths are coming faster than normal as are mine.

Reaching the top most part of her arm I slide my hand over to the top of her luscious breasts, yes breasts. I cannot think of them in the more polite vernacular at a time when I want to taste them more than I want to breathe my next breath. Leaning over so my mouth is against her ear I lick at her lobe with my tongue just before I whisper in my most hypnotic tone, "Your skin is like warm honey, just as smooth and twice as sweet."

At this point I am beyond composing great prose. It is hard enough to get one sane sentence to pass my lips. Most of my brain is focused on the sensual aspects rather than the intellectual.

"Oh…oh, well thank you then Erik," a mere whisper of sound escapes past her lips. I've got her under my spell. Taking advantage of her surrender I kiss her shoulder as I dip one fingertip into the bodice of her gown. Brushing it over her nipple I feel her stiffen then tremble in response. Using only my hand and voice I will bring her to climax.

"Erik I…we…you…Oh Erik, do that again," she begs as she grips the arms of her chair with a knuckle white grip. This will not bring me anything but frustration and yet in a strange way I find it highly arousing. As the music swells during a final dramatic scene Meg's trembling increases to an almost violent level. A climatic end is not far away both on stage and in my box. Meg shoves the back of her hand against her mouth to quiet her moans.

Vaguely I remember this being a one act play followed by another short presentation then followed by some musical number, plenty of time to work some magic on Meg. Sexual experimentation is a long held dream of mine, one I thought never to realize.

Her cries of fulfillment are covered by the rise of music as the end of whatever performance they presented but we did not see or hear. I don't think I shall ever view the theatre in the same light again. How many more places will be forever changed by Meg's presence? I know of hundreds I wish to explore.

**A/N: Thought I'd end the chapter with a light note as it began in a darker tone. Heinrich is close to finding out just what it means to cross the former Phantom of the Opera. Sorry for such a long wait but internet problems and then computer problems kept me from updating. Enjoy.**


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter Twenty-five

Let Fate Decide

I must say spending time with Meg either in conversation or quiet walks is something I find unexpectedly rewarding. Of course I try to maneuver as many intimate moments as possible but I am equally eager for our less physical exchanges. One would think I'd press my advantage and bed her but I find the anticipation of such an eventuality almost as exciting as the final conquering of Meg will be.

Having learned how sensual Meg is I am continuously fascinated how easily I can bring her to climax with only my hands, lips and voice and all above the waist I might add, for the most part. I allow myself this silent posturing and conceit due to years without either where sexual prowess were concerned, not for want of trying. I dare not sing to her gauging her reaction to these caresses used to fuel a lover's desires. When Meg indicates she wants to give me equal pleasures I use my powers over her body to increase her enjoyment. When we do join I want to burn like an incendiary flame. Having climbed the heights with Meg already I find I want to wait for anything further.

The only disruption in our happiness is Heinrich, he has returned and sent word that Meg should join him in town for lunch today. He is toying with her. I know the signs as I did it for years with every manager entering my opera house. I hate sending Meg out to share that man's company but it must be done. Holding her as she cries tears me up inside. For that alone Heinrich will pay. Meg should not have to shed one more tear on behalf of any uncaring brutish man. I include myself among them. I treated Meg abominably and fail to comprehend how she could feel anything other than contempt for me.

I gave Meg my solemn word I wouldn't follow her into town and risk being seen. More likely she doubts my ability to refrain from strangling the man on sight. Meg is learning how to read and understand my mind more with each passing day.

I pace each of the three hours she is away roaming aimlessly from room to room. One hour to town, one hour with Heinrich and then one hour return trip to slamming of the front door followed by a feminine voice cursing like a drunken sailor signals Meg's return. I am in time to see her rip the gloves from her hands and toss them carelessly onto the hall table. Next comes hatpin and hat. The pin hits the floor with a metalic clink. I pick it up and calmly hand it to Meg. She snatches it from my hand and jabs it ferociously into the innocent hat. I am glad I am not the object of her wrath. That hatpin could be lethal in the right hands.

"That…that animal, that reprobate, he has the unmitigated gall to suppose I will happily pack my bags and help him fleece you of your worldly goods. Is the man so thick, so self-absorbed he hasn't noticed how I despise him and his touch even more so? I have stated my disgust in every way I know how yet he carries on as if I am a confused willful child, not a grown intelligent woman at all," now that the pressure valve on her anger has been loosened the steam of her first outburst begins to fade.

"Well I take it he isn't to be satisfied with a small fortune in trinkets and petty pocket change?" I ask knowing the answer all too well. I expected nothing less.

"I am beginning to feel my objections to his permanent removal were perhaps made in haste. His ego is such that he can't imagine any woman not finding him irresistible. He…he said…well he said some very unflattering things about you. For goodness sake the man smells of hair oil and looks as if he could provide half the city with cooking grease. As for his manners…well let us say they leave a lot to be desired. Having had time to fume and think all the way home about his abysmal behavior I am finding my objection to a harsher punishment to be lessening with each time I must spend a moment in his company. I had to stand on the sidewalk at this late hour flagging down public transport at my own expense mind you as he couldn't be bothered to bring me to my own front door as a gentleman should. He insisted I send the carriage home. I should have known he had evil intentions in mind," the steam is on the rise again.

As entertaining as this is I want to move on to more pertinent subjects such as when my prey will be making an unsanctioned visit to my home. As always I find it easy to soothe Meg with my hands and voice. It isn't long before she is leaning against me breathing calmly with her arms around my waist. It is becoming harder for me to tell if it is my hypnotic talents at play or whether Meg is truly mesmerized by me and my voice, not on a mental level but a physically sensual level. When first I set about using my mesmerizing skills I did not see any complication arising from it as I only used it to heighten our sexual encounters. Being a man I find I want her to respond to me not some suggestion I slip into the soothing nonsense I whisper in her ear.

Will my attraction still exist if I do not speak of anything but business? What woman could find anything in such mundane conversations stimulating? I will test my theory after I rid us of Mr. Heinrich Grueber.

Pushing her away from me I give her a thorough going over. It is my face she centers her attention on capturing me in the amethysts that give her eyes their mystery and allure. Perhaps it is I who am mesmerized and not Meg. All I know for certain is that I will do her biding. I ask her if she is calm enough for us to examine our plan looking for any flaws we may have missed the last fifteen times we discussed what would happen. She is so we retire to the study. I like this room. Several fantasies featuring Meg and I improperly clothed or rather unclothed have featured my desk and the rather overstuffed chair by the windows. Being a tall man I require specially fitted clothing as well as my furniture. Everything I buy is built for two. Did I design everything with my deviant sexual appetites in the back of my mind? I can't say and really it is a moot point. The woman has to be willing to indulge and as yet Meg and I haven't gotten past our initial sexual experience. It is not Meg keeping us at this torturous level but me as I admitted before. I enjoy the titillation.

Point by point I go over the details of our plan. I can't help but notice Meg seems just as mesmerized by me as I speak about the hard dry facts as she was when I whispered naughty suggestions in her ear. Her chin comes to rest on her fisted hands giving me her rapt attention. If I told her the house was burning and we were about to die would it even register? It is a good thing her part is only to deliver the day and time I am supposed to be leaving my house. As a safety precaution I am sending Meg out for a night to visit a gallery that is displaying several works of art by some of the masters. Raoul and Gustave will receive tickets as well. I shall beg off as I have a prior engagement.

Heinrich will show up expecting to find Meg waiting for him like some harem girl waiting for her master. Having made plans to force Meg to help him rid me of my valuables he won't take it in stride that she is going against his wishes to stay on the night of thievery. I can't take a chance he will not honor his word not to harm Meg if he gets what he wants. To steal my possessions will not be enough for him. He will want to hurt me by using Meg as a weapon. I won't allow it.

I'll leave my home empty of occupants so he can have free access to everything. Hiding within my walls I will be able to see him wherever he goes. If he decides to open the safe then he will seal his own fate. Greed will be the judge proclaiming his sentence of death. As far as I am concerned it is a forgone conclusion what will happen. He won't be satisfied until he has taken everything from me. I am so confident of the outcome that earlier this morning just after sunrise I dug the grave that will become Heinrich's resting place although if he is going to hell as I suspect then his death will end in anything but peace.

Meg can't eat a bite of her dinner. I on the other hand eat a robust meal. I am not in the least troubled by what will happen. After all it is in Heinrich's hands if he will walk away a relatively wealthy man or resting forever in a place no one but me will know as his final resting place. I look at this situation the same as I did my traps at the opera house. I warned everyone what could happen if they chose to invade my home. I left it up to then to listen or not. Most did, a few did not. My conscience was clear on the matter of those deaths but I have so many I cannot reconcile with a just reason for taking their lives. Penitence is the only way to give me relief from the possibility I will end up in hell instead of heaven. Everyone I know personally will be beyond me if I should die without making some gesture of retribution for my sins. I am not a religious man or at least I never was before but recent events have brought about the question of what will become of my immortal soul should I die without asking for God's forgiveness. During my life I took turns cursing God followed by declarations he did not exist.

Having people in my life who matter give me a different perspective. Perhaps this mortal plain is not the end but a beginning to a much longer journey. Meg has been to see her priest. All these years I did not know Meg attended church or even that she held any belief in God at all. I know Madame attended every chance she got and look how that ended.

On the night of the big event Raoul sent word he would stop by and pick up Meg so they could attend the gallery opening together. I had already made my excuses. When he arrived it is as well I know of this other woman he is interested in or I couldn't let Meg out the door with him even if Gustave is standing beside them dancing from one foot to another in a hurry for his big night out with the grownups.

Cook and Howard have the night off with compensation in their pockets to pay for a long pleasant visit in the city. Heinrich will find no impediments to taking everything not nailed down. If he is smart he will bring a wagon as many of the paintings and statues adorning my home are of great value historically, artistically and monetarily. There is a considerable amount of cash in my safe but it is a drop in the bucket to what he can lay his hands on in every room of the house. He isn't too intelligent in my opinion. A man with knowledge of who and what I was should know I wouldn't take leaving my possessions out in the open lightly. If he is foolish enough to imagine he has the upper hand that mistake is on his head.

My goodbye kiss for Meg I intended to be sedate and proper but the moment I inhaled her scent it went straight to my head or more accurately far south of there. I must have shocked both Gustave and Raoul for they were silenced into speechlessness.

"Uncle Erik what are you doing to Mademoiselle Giry?" my son's inquisitive nature could be silenced only so long, a few seconds by my estimation.

Straightening away from Meg I brush the sleeves of my jacket, pull at my cuffs then fiddle with my cravat all to give me time to recover my ability to speak normally.

"I suppose this is as good a time as any to inform you Meg and I are…courting?" I hesitate on the last word as so many other inappropriate words sing out inside my head. All of them would shock Meg and Raoul. Gustave wouldn't understand the meaning of some of them.

Raoul looks unsure if he should congratulate us or advise Meg to run as fast as she can for the nearest exit. Eventually he regains his manners to say, "Well I suppose congratulations are in order. Best of luck Erik," he says as he grabs my hand for a firm handshake. "Meg I extend my congratulations to you also." Why does it sound more a question than a statement?

"Uncle Erik does this mean you are getting married? Can I be in the wedding? Have you bought a ring yet? Does that mean you won't have time to play with your experiments? Can I have them?" Gustave is looking at this as an opportunity to acquire my curiosities. How do you tell an eleven year old that those objects witnessed my sinful pleasure with Meg and are therefore bound to me for eternity? I can't. I will just be a selfish uncle unwilling to part with one single possession.

Before I can give my son reason to think I am selfish Raoul reprimands him for being avaricious. It is a small thing but sometimes small things fester and become larger problems. He will be spoiled enough without giving in to his every whim. I only feel slight jealousy to witness Meg on the arm of Raoul as they exit out the front door. I have nothing to fear where they are concerned. I know this for certain as Meg casts me a look that is sure to fire my blood. Have I ever received a come-hither look in my life? Most certainly not, Meg is my first and sure to be my last.

Besides, Gustave will be playing gooseberry and I foresee him asking endless questions about everything leaving the two adults little time to share intimate conversation.

It is good that we are all finding our way to forgiveness. To hold on to such destructive emotions as hate and revenge only gives time to add fuel to the flickering flame. This philosophy is why I will not let Heinrich trouble me one more minute than necessary. He will be dealt with swiftly and permanently then he will be quickly forgotten.

This could be a long night for me so I fortify myself with plenty of drink and food during my long vigil. Heinrich is intelligent enough to watch and wait before entering the house. He must be certain of his privacy. I made certain to be seen leaving riding my own horse. I'll ride out a quarter mile then double back to leave the animal safely in the stable.

Stealthily I move from shadow to shadow just in case my prey is slightly more intelligent than I give him credit for. I enter my home through the side entrance and make my way into one of my passages.

I am nearly at the front of my home when he enters via the front door which he believes Meg left open for him. Little does he know I am the spider and he the fly. I have welcomed him into my web from which there is no escape.

Keeping him in my sights is easy courtesy of my creative remodeling of the space in the walls. So many times he comes near me and I find it harder to ignore the fact that he is touching my things and taking them as if he has a right to them. Let him enjoy his fleeting moment of triumph for in the end I will be the victor. There is a slight wrinkle in the plan as Heinrich brought an accomplice with him. The unknown man is lacking in intelligence or any thoughts that I can see. He is a drone, brought along simply as extra muscle. Likely he would have been eliminated later if Heinrich's plan would have succeeded. Perhaps I shall let the mystery man go without harming him. After all he doesn't know anything about me. All he will have been told is that a robbery would take place.

Just as I suspected Heinrich told his partner Joe to drive the wagon to their meeting place. Now I am willing to let Joe leave without harm but I'll not let him take one item of mine. I must follow him and leave Heinrich to walk through my personal space. Later I may need an exorcism performed as everything will be tainted by his evil touch. I want no remnant of his devilish aura remaining.

Naturally Joe will have to take the drive leading back to the main road. I on the other hand can trot along in a straight line making the distance much shorter. As he passes me I toss my lasso snagging him around his neck. My intent is only to bring him to the ground so I exert just enough pressure that he cannot remove the noose strangling him.

I suppose I do look rather fierce as I swoop in to stand over my prey like an avenging black angel. He can't speak because I have cut off his air supply but his eyes tell it all. He is frightened by the sight of me. With my black mask and billowing black cape I must appear sinister, downright evil in fact. Playing on his belief that I may be some ghostly specter or something sent by God to exact punishment on the wicked I use my most evil sounding voice. Oh the memories this brings back to me. I shouldn't enjoy them so much but I do. It is invigorating to have complete power over another.

"Leave now and I shall forget you have invaded my forest. I am the keeper of the woods bound here by blood. If I kill you here within my realm you will join me. Would you like to join me for eternity in the task of keeping the woods inviolate of interlopers? Join me and we shall return and offer your friend the same choice. Be quick about it. Deny me and you will suffer such torture as you cannot imagine. Leave now and promise never to step foot within my woods and I shall pardon your violation this one time, only this once mind you," I bend down close to his face letting my hot breath blow into his face. I may even smell somewhat like a demon from hell after eating raw onions and spicy sausage links.

His answer is all but a forgone conclusion as I loosen the lasso so he can speak. As soon as he is free of that constriction he peddles backward then scrambles to his feet to head off to anywhere but here. I don't believe this part of the country will ever see poor Joe again, just as well as my heart wasn't in taking his life. Heinrich on the other hand I anticipate meeting face to face. My heart is pumping and pounding to the same rhythm as my fast moving feet. Just about now my prey will be in my study trying to crack the combination on the safe. To make it easier I changed the tumblers so that even a simpleton could get it open. No matter what numbers he chooses the dials will click and open the door giving him the impression he is a skilled safecracker. It is by my skill and wits that he is being lured into my trap. He is a dead man; he just doesn't know it yet. Soon I will acquaint him of that fact and enlighten him just how painful his eventual demise will be.

**A/N: What evil lurks in the hearts of men? Poor Heinrich. Just kidding. He'll get what he derserves and we'll all be eating popcorn, clapping and cheering. **


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter Twenty-six**

**One Less Obstacle **

Imagine Heinrich's surprise when I stepped out of the wall just as he received his just rewards. Or what he must see as his just desserts. I on the other hand have a different opinion what is fair and just. I must say I quit enjoyed his shock to see me materialize seemingly with magic right before him.

Even as his hand is swelling and throbbing he still clutches the bag containing what he took out of the safe. I will not say a word. He can hang himself trying to explain what he was doing in my house when no one else was home and especially why he thought it would be alright to pilfer through my belongings.

"What…How…Where did you come from?" was what he finally had to say. The man has no imagination.

The unmitigated gall of him to question me in my own home as if he had a right to do so infuriates me. I hold off my instant impulse to throttle him in a very horrific way. No sense in ending my fun too soon. This should prove entertaining. Keeping my hands behind my back, I saunter over to stand in front of him giving him ample opportunity to attack me. The fool won't let go of the bag. What good does he think it will do him if he is dead which he will be soon although he isn't privy to that information yet. My sudden appearance must have driven any thought of self-preservation right out of his head as he still has not made an effort to run or remove me as an obstacle to his absconding.

"Since it seems to matter to you I will indulge you as in about oh," I pause to look at my pocket watch, "about fifteen minutes you will not be able to speak or move let alone care about anything other than the agony creeping over you," I inform him but I can see he does not believe me. The sting on his hand should have given him a clue. Perhaps he believes he scrapped it on a piece of metal from the safe.

Pointing to the wall I instruct, "If you would care to look closer at the wall you might detect a thin break in the panel. This is a panel which opens only by engaging the proper mechanism. Only someone knowing where to find such a device can open the panel. Since I designed every improvement in the house I am the only one who knows of the panels or how to access them. Well, I feel I should be honest in what is your last moments. I have shown them to Meg and shown her how to open them."

I give him a moment to take that in before I confront him with a more pressing concern. "About now you should be feeling the effects of the scorpion's sting. Numbness will be setting in. Loss of control will follow shortly afterward."

The bag he is holding at last falls from his hand. Immediately he grabs his hand to look where there is a small puncture wound resembling two pinpricks. Swelling is already apparent. I can see panic begin to manifest as he is processing what I told him and what is going on within his body. Soon even rational thought will be impossible. Typically he begins to run as if he can outrun the inevitable.

"Please do not rush about as that will only increase the venom's affect. Unless you would care to run out the back door and climb into the wagon I left there then I suggest you take a chair and await the inevitable outcome. If there is any small bit of good left in you might I suggest you make peace with whatever god you hold in reverence? If you have any family you wish me to relay any messages to I will be more than agreeable to do so. After all I am not completely heartless," I offer in hopes to earn points from my own deity.

"You son of a bitch. Why? Why do it this way? Why not simply turn me in?" he is seriously lacking in intelligence if he doesn't know the answers to those questions. Clearly he does not know me as well as he thought.

"So this is how you choose to spend your last moments? In conversation about the why's of it all?" I won't let his pitiful display sway one iota of sympathy in his favor.

I will indulge him as this is his last moments. "Very well I shall tell you. Mind you in a little while you won't be able to think clearly or understand what is happening or what I am saying. All you will feel is the venom coursing through your veins destroying all it comes in contact with along the way. Not a method I would choose for myself but then you only had the choice to leave with what you had already taken or let your greed be the deciding factor in whether you left with your life or not. To be fair though I must confess it is a probability I would have killed you anyway. Couldn't have your threats hanging over my head for the rest of my life now could I? If you must bargain with the devil you risk making a poor one in the end for we all know he is not one for being generous to his conquests."

He sways nearly falling down. I feel some sympathy although not much but I do help him to a chair. He won't be helping me load him in the wagon, inconsiderate to the end. If I am to comply with his request to know everything it must be quick as the venom is advancing faster than I thought. Fear does tend to cause the heart to pump faster.

"Why I choose this method should be obvious if you truly do know all about me. I couldn't waltz into any police station and give an account of just why I am being targeted now could I? I certainly couldn't chance you being spiteful and reneging on our agreement or rather your agreement with Meg, Mademoiselle Giry. You Monsieur are no gentleman. A gentleman would not blackmail a lady in the manner you have. Monetary gain is one thing but to use what you know to gain sexual favor is abominable. Stealing from me I might admire even as I resented it but to distress Meg in such a way is not something I will forgive."

I pause long enough to pour him a drink. The alcohol won't delay anything but it may take the edge off the pain. I am getting soft in my old age. I do hope God is taking notes.

"Honestly what did you think would happen here? I'd let you go without any reprisal? Obviously Fleck did not tell you enough about me. That is another matter you must account for. For you to get any information from her you must have used means that brought her much suffering for her to let out one of my secrets. Her loyalty I could count on above anyone else's."

"Opium," he croaks out. For that tidbit I commend him. He could have left me in the dark wondering if my faith had been misplaced. Perhaps he is reconsidering making amends with his god.

"Thank you for that. I would not want to live wondering if Fleck betrayed me because of her affection for you or promises you made to her." I truly mean what I am saying.

"I suppose you now realize I couldn't let you walk away. We both are men of the same world. I would have gone back on my word and told whatever I knew if it could give me some enjoyment or cause others pain. That has been the rules of my world for many years. Don't leave loose ends and trust no one. Above all safeguard your secrets," I conclude forthrightly.

His eyes are closing. Soon he won't be able to open them again. As the pain builds his groans and screams escalate. I must leave the room as I do not find enjoyment in his suffering as I might have at one time. This is another mark in the column of good deeds if someone happens to be keeping a tally of my sins and redemption.

It is safe to leave him alone as he isn't capable of moving now. While planning how I would remove the body it occurred to me that I'd need to stash a wheelbarrow to use as transport. I got several curious glances from Howard and Cook this afternoon but they know better than to question me. I am relieved they didn't carry the tale to Meg as they are wont to do from time to time when I behave oddly. I know better than to let them see anything incriminating. I am not a master magician for nothing. Lead the observer in one direction while you commit your intended trick in another direction right under their noses.

Either Heinrich is heavier than I thought or my age is indeed catching up with me. I am winded by the time I have him in the wheelbarrow. Time was I could lift him above my head and toss him a few feet away from me. Now I can barely manage to lift him above my knees and with my back bent at an uncomfortable angle. The strain feels as if I may damage something permanently. My upper arms are burning from the strain. This proves I must make an effort to exercise more. I'll have to see about equipping a room with ropes from ceiling to floor to improve my upper body strength and catwalks to strengthen my legs.

After wrestling him into the wagon I must return inside to get a drink. This also gives me time to recover from the necessity to breath as if I had run miles instead of only walked a few hundred feet pushing a wheelbarrow filled with a man weighing around fourteen stone. There was a time I could run through many passages, climb any number of stairs then climb the ropes up to the catwalks and look down on Christine and still have breath to lose when seeing her lovely face or hearing her angelic voice. It is best I don't travel down that memory lane or I might get lost and lose sight of what I must do.

Getting Heinrich into the hole I dug earlier will be easier than getting him on the wagon. All I need to do is back the wagon to the hole, shove him off and then cover everything up so there is not one thing to alert anyone that there is something here that should not be here. I might have a cottage erected and hire a permanent grounds keeper. If Meg is to be with me I must make my life as normal as I can. After this one time there will be no more visits from the Phantom. I'd like to think that symbolically I am burying him with my last victim.

Patting the last shovelful of dirt onto the unmarked grave I stand looking down at the newly turned earth. I am of two minds whether a few words should be spoken over Heinrich. He wasn't a good man or one anyone will miss but he was someone's son and not always the horrible person he turned into. I myself wasn't born a murderer. Life's circumstances led me to that moment I took my first life. I should have asked Heinrich the circumstances that led him to a life of crime. Oh well it is too late now he is in the hands of God or Satan whichever is willing to claim his miserable soul.

I return home just before Howard and Cook come in. I really must find a way to get Meg to tell me that woman's name again as I have forgotten it. Is my forgetfulness another sign that I am aging rapidly? I really must make haste to move my relationship with Meg along. I wouldn't want to die not knowing what it is like to fall asleep with the woman you love and have her there when you open your eyes. Many times I dreamed of Christine and would wake holding nothing but empty air. A pillow in my arms was a poor substitute. With Meg I plan to hold her every night if she does not object.

I know she won't vaporize because she is real not a dream but I won't feel totally convinced until I wake that first time with her still beside me waking with love filling her eyes as she sees me and only me, not my deformity, not the terrible person I used to be. At one time I wanted that woman to be Christine but that was not to be. I loved Christine and still do but I have found that there is room enough for more than one person in the heart and more than one kind of love. What I felt for Christine doesn't mean what I feel for Meg is any the less powerful or combustible. It is simply different yet it is still love.

If I didn't think I could give Meg my full commitment then I would fade off into the distance and leave everything behind even Gustave. That is the level of my faith in what I share with Meg. There is much we must discover and build upon but the groundwork has been laid out for us to build our life on its foundation. I intend for us to forge an unbreakable bond. None of that nonsense that could define what I had with Christine will come into play with Meg and I. From now on there will be no Phantom, no Mister Y, no murdering or deceit. Only honesty and devotion will be between us.

Leisurely I bathe wanting to wash away the dirt as well as the memory of how I spent the night. Meg may have her suspicions and if she asks I think it best to confess just in case there is some piece of evidence I overlooked. Honesty is the best policy but only if she forces it out of me. There is no need to volunteer unsavory facts just to clear my conscience. Honesty is one thing foolhardy confessions are another.

Waiting for Meg to come in after hearing the carriage return is wearing on my nerves. What could be taking so long? How long does it take to say thank you for a nice evening and goodnight? I'll admit jealousy wants to raise its ugly head but I won't let it take control of me. I trust Meg and how she feels about me. What other woman would have sacrificed herself the way she did without caring for me? Even with Heinrich her concern had been for me and how he might hurt me.

Hearing the front door open I hear the rustle of underskirts as Meg comes into the room at a near run. She looks around and sees me. Without a moment's hesitation she comes across the room and falls into my lap, literally. It is fortunate the chair I chose to wait for her is sturdy or we would both have ended up in the floor.

"Oh Erik I was so worried. I couldn't enjoy a moment thinking what might be happening to you. Did he go away? Please tell me he is gone," she asks as she kisses my face and strokes me with her hands as if trying to discover some injury. I have to admit it is nice to have someone care about me in this way. I do believe she would miss me if I were to suddenly disappear.

Kissing her soundly I tell her what she wants to hear leaving out some pertinent details. "He is gone and I am convinced he means never to return. I was very…persuasive. In the end he proved to be a reasonable man. A price was offered and accepted. We parted on amicable terms." Well I felt very affable in the end toward Heinrich. He may have had other ideas toward me but we will never learn of them.

"I never thought he would go. He is too greedy. You must have given him a king's ransom. I am sorry for that Erik. I don't have nearly as much as you must have lost but what I have is yours," Meg tearfully offers me her worldly goods without regret.

"Meg after tonight I hope we will never mention Heinrich again. I would just as soon put it all behind us. From tomorrow we will start fresh. Both in our relationship and giving the past its due so we can move forward free of old baggage. Agreed?"

"Erik I want for us to begin fresh more than anything. Already the past is meaning less to me than a future with you. You are what matters to me. You and your happiness," spoken with such love I cannot fail to hear the truth of it or feel it as she holds me as if she will never let me go. For now this is enough. I will live in this perfect moment until reality sets in. There will be plenty of time for the outside world to intrude but not tonight.

**A/N: Well at last the nasty business of Heinrich is over. Good riddance. Now on with the happiness**.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter Twenty-seven**

**Building Blocks**

If I thought things would magically work as I wanted them to then I quickly got slapped in the face with reality. Gustave has taken on the personality of a boy possessed. Not only with me but with Raoul too. Meg receives a fair amount of vitriolic abuse as well but with less conviction. With her it is mostly for show.

First Raoul announced his engagement then Meg and I announced ours. Too much change in a short time is what we all concluded caused some demon child to replace our reasonably well behaved son.

Walking on egg shells in my own home is not something I enjoy and if the culprit were anyone other than Gustave the situation would have been dealt with long ago. My patience is fast coming to the limits of its restraint. Meg tries to ease the path between Gustave and I by deflecting much of his anger toward herself. A good cry or tantrum concerning his mother's passing and Meg's connection to it is long overdue.

We may have all made a temporary agreement to live in harmony but if we thought it would last forever Gustave quickly disabused us of that notion. Raoul has threatened to take a strap to the boy but I feel that is an idle threat or else I would make sure Raoul and Gustave parted ways permanently. Meg is the voice of reason among us all. She understands that Gustave is torn between loyalty to his mother and her memory and continuing on with his own life among those who contributed to her end. By the grace of god he hasn't come right out and hurled that accusation at any of us but we all know it is there inside of him wanting to find a way to be expressed without losing anyone else he cares about. It is up to the adults to bear whatever means he uses to work through his pain and anger.

When Gustave has one of his 'fits' those witnessing the spectacle look from him to me. I know what they are thinking. They wonder just how much of me passed on to Gustave. In my opinion my son has perfected the art of the tantrum. Very little effort is needed for him to have the whole household spellbound by his antics. As the time between his misbehaving grows shorter and more demonstrative I am fast coming to the conclusion that perhaps Raoul may be correct in stating Gustave needs a firmer hand taken in these matters. Reason and bribery don't seem to have any positive results. In truth it is only I who has attempted to bribe him. Meg and Raoul both took me to task for that. I must say I did not care for the scolding in the least.

At the moment Gustave is locked in the bedroom I keep for his use when he stays late helping me work on some experiment or invention. From the sounds reaching us in the hall I doubt there will be one window or mirror left in that room. It was such a nice room too. Meg worked especially hard on it. Now the ungrateful child is ruining it. Never could I imagine even thinking of striking a child let alone my own but that was before I knew they can be possessed by some very nasty demons. I am beginning to wonder if I possessed more than the average child which caused me to be more revenge minded than most. As an excuse it is weak but nonetheless I will allow myself some latitude on this matter.

"Erik this has gone on long enough. We must do something before he hurts himself. There must be broken glass everywhere from the sound of it. Maybe he can be reasoned with," Meg offers hopefully.

"Meg we have done nothing but reason with him for the past month. If I didn't know for certain that was my son in there I'd swear we had inherited a poltergeist or been invaded by some demon," I hate that this is the truth. Raoul doesn't gloat when he is proved right but I still hate it when he is proven right. If anyone is to discipline Gustave it won't be me. In fact on that day I shall barricade myself in my laboratory in case I am tempted to intervene. Cowardly or not I can not stand by while someone, even Raoul takes a switch to my own flesh and blood no matter how evil he has become.

"What do you suggest we do Erik? You sent Raoul packing when he threatened to spank Gustave. Nothing else is working. At the moment he thinks he hates us all," she throws up her hands and begins to pace back and forth.

Damn it I had wanted to pace. Now we would only bump into one another hindering any benefit the action would be. Of all of us Meg is the one Gustave is less violent with. Whether it stems from having respect for all women or because Meg reminds him of Christine it is hard to say. The two women look nothing alike but Meg is a loving and caring woman as was Christine. Gustave must miss Christine very much. Meg was the one to suggest that this recent display of poor behavior stemmed from not grieving properly for his mother. Maybe it had been wrong on our part not to mention her more to him. I hope he does not imagine we have all forgotten her. Raoul loves her just as much as he did when they wed and I…well I love her also but in a different way than before. It is a softer, gentler emotion, not so all consuming. Meg takes more and more of my heart each day. Perhaps Raoul and I should explain to Gustave that people can love more than once and more than one person at a time.

Having one child I would like to have another or perhaps several more. Lord help us if we don't fix this now and other children come into the picture. By then we could have what seems like an army of demonic entities invading our home unless we curtail things now. We must unite, be as one, lay down the law.

"I think it best if you speak to him. I will await the outcome downstairs in my study," I toss over my shoulder. I am not making a hasty retreat I am merely leaving the field clear for Meg to work her magic. I am not a coward when faced with the task of disciplining my firstborn. Lies, all lies but I will let the deception stand.

"Erik! Erik you come back here right this minute. Oh…oh you…you coward. You shall pay for this later my love," she threatens with little conviction. She is unformed clay in my hands. I bend her to my will. As I hurry to a panel that will lead me to Gustave's wall I am planning just what feat I can perform to win Meg's favor.

I really must look into getting more exercise as just this short jaunt has me out of breath. I try not to gasp as Gustave has proved that he has acute hearing, like a bat. A bat uses its ears rather than its eyes to see. Meg has asked me to set up an experiment to prove my theory. Anything that brings her to a place where I can impress her with my intellect is fine with me. An added incentive is we end up experimenting on each other as well.

Pressing my ear to the wall I hear Meg knocking and calling softly to Gustave. He ignores her. She will now pull out all the stops. Meg is a consummate actress I have learned. I am happy with the results so far as she has done nothing against me but much to me donning many different personas.

I hear a sniffle. It is convincing even to me. Another trick of Meg's, she can cry at the drop of a hat and every time I cannot resist even if I know she is putting on a performance to gain my agreement against my will.

"Gustave please let me speak with you face to face." Another sniffle followed by a hiccupping sigh. Oh she is good.

I hear him moving cautiously toward the door then he asks uncertainly, "What do you wish to speak to me about. I…I hate you, you know."

"Oh yes and I understand completely. Who could blame you? Everything is my fault. Erik and Raoul should hate me too. I am not worthy of anyone's kindness or consideration let alone their love. I dare not even consider expecting anything like that from you. Your mother, I know how much you miss your mother. Can we…do you want to speak about her? Please Gustave, let me in," more persuasive pleading filled with heartfelt tears, perhaps not so practiced as before. Meg always gets teary-eyed when Christine is mentioned. I must confess I do as well.

Meg's tears, coupled with the irresistible offer to speak about his mother sways Gustave to open the door. I can hear the lock clicking just before the door creaks open. I'll need to oil that door later if Meg lure's Gustave out of his room.

I hear a whoosh of air leaving Meg's mouth just before Gustave breaks into sobs. He must have grabbed her around the waist as soon as she opened the door. This is what he needs. Someone who can give him the tenderness his mother did and speak to him about her in ways that Raoul and I cannot. I miss Christine too but it is hard for me to speak about her to anyone especially my son. I still feel the sting of my own guilt concerning what lead to her dying.

Removing the knothole in the wooden panel I press my eye to it so I can see into the room. As I suspected Meg and Gustave are sharing an embrace. If it wouldn't spoil the moment I'd leave my hiding place and join them in that consoling hug.

"Come, dry your eyes and we will talk. Ask me anything you wish. I will be as truthful as I can be. It is time you knew everything. After all you are almost a man. We should have realized your need to know more than what we told you so far. You are no longer a boy to be protected from every hurt the world will put in your path. We will offer a shield but not keep you insulated as we have done in the past. It isn't fair to any of us for you to be left in the dark," Meg states honestly.

Sitting him down Meg waits for him to begin. She doesn't have long to wait as he sat up straight to ask, "Why did mother return to Uncle Erik the night before marrying my father? Everyone gives me some stupid answers about me not understanding just yet and I must wait. Well I am tired of waiting. I want to know," he slams his fists down on his knees. I cringe to think of what Meg will say to him concerning what in reality was a betrayal of his father by his future bride. My part is not so chivalrous or honorable either.

"Really this tale isn't mine to tell but since the men have left it all to me I will tell you all I know. Your mother…Christine and I were as close as any two sisters could be. We shared everything until she started having lessons from her Angel of Music. By now I am sure you know that was your Uncle Erik. He never meant to mislead your mother or not for long anyway. I suppose the years just sort of slipped away and revealing himself didn't seem important until his feelings for Christine began to change," she pauses to reflect for a moment to find the words she needs.

"Everything started to unravel for Erik when your father, Raoul, returned. Once he discovered Christine was at the opera house nothing could stop the inevitable results. They fell deeply in love. Their childish bond as childhood sweethearts blossomed in an all consuming romance. That of course did not suit Erik's plans at all. The new managers were pressing for his capture at the same time he had to fight against Raoul for Christine's affections," another pause, this time a longer one.

"I do not excuse what your father, Erik, did but I can understand it all too well. I let my own emotions rule my behavior with terrible results. None of us are entirely innocent nor do any one of us bear the brunt of responsibility for what happened on our own. If everyone was so hell bent, pardon my plain speaking, but it is true that if everyone kept a clearer head most of what happened could have been avoided. Everyone had their own agenda with Christine in the middle. They gave her little choice in the matter. She made her decision right or wrong and stuck by it. Raoul pressed her to give her help in capturing the Phantom as did the managers. It was all too much for a young inexperienced seventeen year old to handle. She did the best she could. It was inevitable she would feel remorse for having betrayed the man who had always been there for her when she needed him," sadness filled her voice as she stopped to compose herself.

"Your mother left me several diaries. A solicitor sent them to me. I haven't read them all yet but there are a few you might like to see. Christine's own words can explain everything so much better than I can. Whatever you learn about your mother and Erik I hope you never doubt they both love you no matter what craziness happened to be ruling their lives. Erik still loves you as does Raoul. How many boys can say they have two such fine gentlemen willing to claim him as a son? You are more special than you know Gustave. Some day I hope you know just how special. You are our saving grace," no truer words have ever been spoken.

For a few seconds the clocks ticking is the only sound coming from the room. So many questions are vying to be expressed it is hard to keep silent.

"Meg would you mind if I call you Aunt Meg all the time, not just when we are in Uncle Erik's house?" he asks hesitantly.

"Of course not. I thought we established the fact that I consider you to be my nephew just as if Christine and I really were related by blood." Meg reassures him as she strokes his hair tenderly and brushes aside a stray lock hanging down over his right eye. Christine's hair used to do that when she was a child. It irritated Madame and Christine both. Not me. I found it endearing just as I do with Gustave.

"Would you get mad if I tell you something terrible about me?" he asks with a quiver at the end.

"Gustave I thought we already established you could ask me anything and I will listen to whatever you have to say. How could I be mad at you? You are Christine's son which makes you family in my eyes. I know I can never replace your mother but if you let me I can fill the void she left. She wouldn't want you to feel abandoned," Meg continues to stroke his hair and face soothingly. How I ache for her touch at this moment. I am trying not to resent Gustave for receiving tenderness I covet for myself.

He hesitated a few more seconds then heaves in a large breath before saying, "Sometimes…sometimes I hate mother. I hate her for leaving me. I know it isn't what she chose or had any choice in the matter but I can't help how I feel. There are times when I hate everyone around me. The world continues on as if mother never existed."

"She told me to forgive you and I have tried. I thought I had but once in a while I remember the days when she tucked me in at night, read me a bedtime story or we sang and played the piano together, things we will never do again. At those times I find myself hating everyone who is alive and happy, even myself," he is filled with guilt no child should have to bear.

"Gustave it is natural to have those feelings. Do you think I forget for one second how much I loved your mother? Do you think Raoul or Erik can forget how much she meant to them? They fought for her love, were willing to kill one another for her affection and yet they have set aside their animosity so they can be better father's for you. They don't love Christine any the less nor have they forgotten her but honor her memory by trying to raise her son to the best of their ability," her words comfort him as she pulls him to her for a tight embrace.

They are both weeping now. I feel my own tears falling down to wet my cheeks. These are not the same tears of despair from before but tears of happiness because I know we will all be alright because we have each other. Christine has left a legacy greater than she anticipated. Through her we are all united, we are family.

Life can be lived alone but now I do not have to as I have family and with God's grace will add to the numbers in the coming years. Silently I send my love and gratitude to my beloved Christine. Clenching my hands to my chest I feel the warmth within spreading through me as if she has touched me blessing me with her goodness.

Yes, life can be lived alone but only if one is foolish enough to keep oneself separated from the world. This I will never do again.


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter Twenty-eight**

**The Beginning Not the End**

Having sorted Gustave out Meg and I were left time to explore our relationship in peace. If I had to spend so much quality time with anyone else I believe my disposition would be slightly less welcoming. It is wearing on ones nerves to live daily with another person. The rewards are worth the price to my privacy and old habit of keeping secrets. I am not saying I am not allowed privacy at all but occupying a home and a bed on those special nights we risk discovery does cut into my time alone. As if Meg sensed my quandry she deliberatley set about taking trips to town that lasted long into the evening.

I can't say I cared for being left to my own devices without so much as an inquiry if I would care to partake of some entertainment with her. One evening confronting Meg with the accusation she had grown tired of me I found to my embarrassement that I did not have a leg to stand on. As I ranted on and on Meg sat sedately in a chair with her hands foled with a very secretive smile on her face. When she reminded me that I had made it known to her that I wouldn't mind some time to myself I glossed over that and continued to rant. Halfway through my tirade Meg's laughter brought me abruptly to a halt in mid speech.

I stared at her in anger for half a minute until my words I just spoke came back to me. I had been going on and on about a man needing some privacy then in the next breath declared a woman should not leave someone she professes to love alone so often. To her credit she did not inform me that women need time alone at times also or that I was arguing both points in oposition of the other. Needless to say I did the only thing a sane man would do. I kissed her senseless and took her to bed. I am sure we reached heaven that night as I am positive I heard Meg calling me a god during our journey and still we did not join our bodies to seek our pleasure. I wonder if the world will end when we eventually do come together.

After that Meg and I stopped trying to hide our intimacy. We are all consenting adults in this house and besides, I pay their salary.

It grew harder and harder to keep to my vow not to take Meg completely before our marriage. During a rather intimate moment I suddenly felt the need to call a halt before breeching the last barrier between Meg and I becoming one. Christine and I anticipated our nuptials if there would have been any and I did not want to begin my life as Meg's husband having taken away from her the right to think of herself as a virgin. To me all those men from the past do not exist in our world. I think of her as still being the innocent, shy yet sometimes vivacious little flirt from the early days at the opera house. She cried buckets when I gave her my explanation for stopping just on the brink of our union. I am no saint and it was extremely hard to pull back but it was worth it to see how affected Meg was by my gesture.

Meg and I were in no hurry to make our union official in the eyes of God and society. It was enough for us to know that we loved one another. Raoul managed to hold off his own wedding for six months. His bride wanted a proper wedding as well as a virginal one. Frustration does tax a man's patience. Lucky for me Meg is willing to test the waters in other ways. Our relationship isn't all about the sexual gratification although that is a definite bonus. No, what we have is an all encompassing melding of two lives into one. Each day we discover something new about the other or find something we want to share with the other. I suppose we behave like young sweethearts. I didn't have the chance to experience that with Christine so I am all the happier I can share it with Meg.

Everyone expected to hear an announcement but Meg and I kept our little secret or maybe not so secret judging by the smiles I get from the menfolk and the frown I get from Cook. We didn't need anyone but each other and occasionally Gustave. Raoul's wedding provided enough pomp and circumstance to keep the gossips happy for ages. Our nuptials wouldn't even cause a ripple on the pond so why rush things? Meg and I liked having this one thing that only we shared, at least for a little while. They could speculate until the cows came home but they wouldn't know for sure until we told them point blank.

Gustave is a little worried about how he fits into this newly developing family dynamics. Everyone tries to reassure him of his place. No one wants a return of the demon living inside of him. We vanquished him once but maybe we wouldn't be so lucky a second time. Meg keeps my demon on a very tight rein. She understands the workings of my mind better than I do. When I am about to get derailed it is her calm voice of reason pulling me back from the edge of destruction.

To help ease my conscience I sent Fleck enough funds to last for a good while if she is careful. I even felt magnanimous enough to invite her to come back and work for me. Her little betrayal with Heinrich aside she was a loyal employee. Besides Meg and I concluded that Fleck had been duped by Heinrich and didn't know of his evil plans.

Madame also received a settlement from me once I located her. The invitation I sent to her came a little reluctantly but it did come. Meg still needs her mother. I never had one yet even I feel the need for a mother's nurturing once in a while. I never had it so don't really miss it, not like Meg does. The more time I spend with Meg the more I would like to see her swollen with my child. Creating life and being present at the emergence of new life must be a profound experience, one I want to share with Meg.

My most recent misdeed almost came to light due to Raoul's meddling. Out of the blue he suggested a certain stand of trees would make a perfect place to build a cottage for Madame Giry. I nearly choked on my tea and had to come up with something off the top of my head that sounded convincing as to why that land should remain untouched. I had to commit myself to replanting hundreds of trees in an attempt at reclamation of the forest. It is a worthy cause and will benefit me and future generations but I would rather it be one of my future relatives putting in all the necessary work on planning the darn thing.

Meg thinks I am becoming some civic minded do-gooder. I cannot disabuse her damn Raoul's interfering eyes to hell. I have to say I didn't mind the loving attention my generosity reaped from Meg. What she does to me almost brings me to the brink of giving in and claiming her totally for my own. At present we are content to explore one another. She is young and I am still in my prime. Of necessity our wedding will be an intimate affair. We know so few people. Not needing to plan a large affair leaves us free to decide on a day that suits us not when it is convenient to fit in with the social season. If we awake one morning and have an epiphany we will seek out a justice of the peace. I do not practice a religion nor has Meg been a practicing her faith on a constant basis for many years. Only recently has she taken trips to the city for morning mass. So very subtly a less observant man would not notice anything Meg is introducing me to the idiosyncrasies of her faith. If it makes her happy to seek to save my immortal soul then I am happy to oblige her whim. Even if one doesn't hold any belief in one particular god or any god at all the teachings of the church are a sound guideline for treating one another how we would want to be treated. Where is the harm in that?

Just to be clear on the subject of children I asked her how many children she would like to have. Her answer caused my legs to give way and have a need to seek a chair. It is her plan to leave it in the hands of God. How many children could she possibly bear in the next twenty or so years? By then I am assuming her days of fertility would come to an end. I could be wrong of course. It is staggering to contemplate and nerve wracking as well. I know of ways to prevent the seed of my loin from becoming implanted in her womb. I also know of ways to end such a thing if it comes at an inconvenient time. I have to admit I don't know if I could use any such method to control how and when a child is brought into the world. Preventing it beforehand is one thing but ending it after conception is not something I like to think about.

I suppose we are destined to have a dozen or more offspring. Somehow the idea of so many of my progeny running around disturbs me less and less. Raoul announcing he is to be a father again awoke my own need to propagate. In aid of this I set a romantic dinner out on the veranda lit by a good number of candles. The perfect wine and the perfect food set the mood. I can't rightly remember if it was my playing a new composition I wrote for Meg or the wine I plied her with that won Meg over into my bed. Actually it wasn't that hard as she always let me share intimate exchanges with her any time I liked. I like to think I finessed her into making love to me. In the end it didn't matter as we fulfilled our expectation and then some.

Two weeks later Meg and I were wed. Little Alexia Christine was born nine months later. Much to my shock only ten months later Erik Raoul came into the world. Not wanting to risk Meg's health and not willing to forgo the pleasures of my marital bed I practiced control of when we would beget another child. Meg left that entirely in my hands. I think she allows me this one thing as in everything else she and our children rule the roost. I am weak but also strong because I love them all so fiercely. We have agreed that at least two years must be between all our future children.

My deformity has so far not been passed on to any of my children. If one should be afflicted we will deal with it far better than my own parents. Madame, or Antoinette as I call her now, has come back into our lives. The past is left where it belongs, in the past. Besides I am too full of the bounty life has to offer me to worry about petty grudges.

Fleck came to visit for a few months. It took her a while to get to the point of her visit but she did finally reveal her ulterior motive. With the funds I gave her she purchased a large house, one with twenty rooms. She converted it into an establishment that houses young talented artistic hopefuls. It took her a few days to reveal all her plans. In the end she asked if I would be interested in teaching voice classes and music. Meg of course would teach dance. As this filled a need for both of us we jumped at the opportunity. We may never perform in front of an audience again but one of our pupils might become a gift to the world.

Over the thirty years we participated in the Academy of Fine Arts there was at least one student every year that outshined everyone else. We encouraged everyone to pursue their goals but it was to those few special students we gave the world. My children and my wife did not have to hang their heads in shame because of me. They had reason to be proud of me and to admire me. They even aspired to walk in my shoes.

I have thought this many times but it bears repeating, "Life can be lived alone but now I do not have to."

**Finis**

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed our journey. Leave me one final review if you please. Those reading my stories fuel my creativity. **


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